


Atonement

by SgtMac



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Enchanted Forest Adventure, F/F, Mild Hunchback of ND fusion, Swan Mills Family, gets a bit existential and psychological, much lady love, red swan friendship, regina and Esmerelda friendship, this is war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtMac/pseuds/SgtMac
Summary: With Regina's magical heart failing thanks to years of previous evil, Emma and Regina and Henry (and Granny!) set out to save her life by traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting help from ancient magical beings known as the Guardians. Given a mission as simple as it is impossible - to achieve atonement by creating peace - the ladies find themselves joining a rebellion and fighting for the very soul of the Enchanted Forest all while trying to help Regina to understand that the self-loathing and guilt which have driven most of her actions don't have to doom her chance for a new beginning or even, a chance to live and love again. A S4(ish) SQ love story set against the turmoil of war and the chaotic savagery of the old world.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 25
Kudos: 177
Collections: Swan Queen Supernova V: Forever Starstruck





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cesibear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesibear/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Heart of the Woods [Protostar]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264359) by [cesibear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesibear/pseuds/cesibear). 



> A/N: First, appreciation to Cesibear's wonderful artwork. It inspired me right out of the gate, so thank you. 
> 
> Deep, deep gratitude to my beta, Mary. I've said it before and again, but none of this would be possible without your guidance. 
> 
> I really hadn't intended to do two pics for SQSN, but...here we go. In a perfect world with abundant time and no other responsibilities, I'd have had a year and a 150,000 words to tell this story, but I hope the somewhat faster-paced version still delivers. 
> 
> Some notes:
> 
> 1) This takes place in a slightly adjusted season 4 - where in Robin left and never returned and Hook is non existent. I usually deal with him to stay in canon, but there wasn't time or space and I just didn't want to so. Yeah. I feel like you guys won't mind. 
> 
> 2) It also supposes that Red has been over in the Enchanted Forest for awhile. 
> 
> 3) This story borrows Esmerelda and Frollo from the Hunchback, but they're not exact to that. Also, Es is gay. So. 
> 
> 4) There is violence and adult themes in this story. If you know Frollo's character, he's a violent sadistic prick. I'll do another chapter warning specifically for the singular chapter where that plays in, but again, just be forewarned.
> 
> 5) This is primarily and mostly a Regina/Emma story so apologies for occasionally disappearing characters. Our ladies are off another world-hopping adventure together. Whoo hoo!
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

She’s been feeling a bit off for weeks before it finally happens. Not that she lets anyone know that’s she feeling poorly, of course. There’s too much to be done around town, and even if there wasn’t, allowing people to see her weak in any way is never something that she’s been terribly good at. A lifetime of having those vulnerabilities brutally used against her has made her fearful of even allowing the ones she loves see her sneeze three times in a row. And being what she is - a former Evil Queen desperately trying to redeem and prove herself - makes those vulnerabilities even worse.

So, every morning, Regina Mills climbs out of bed, wincing in pain as her breath seems to catch and the strange vice around her chest seems to tighten. A hand against the wall, she counts off numbers in her head until she can start moving again, and then she makes her way into her bathroom, turns on the shower and stands under the hot spray until the fog in her head clears. She tells herself that it’s just compounding exhaustion and deep fatigue from constantly working fifteen hours a day to put Storybrooke back together in the aftermath of the Author and Rumplestiltskin’s machinations.

Truly, there’s validity to that. The damage that they caused, not to mention Cruella, Ursula and Maleficent, will take quite a long while to repair. This damage having, of course, come directly on the heels of the damage caused by the visitors from Arendale, which had happened shortly after the chaos Zelena had caused.

So yeah, Storybrooke needs her.

No time for exhaustion or letting down.

_Keep on, keep on._

And well, she’s trying. Some days are just harder than others.

The morning of the incident, she’s standing in the shower, her head against the cool tiles, the warm water cascading over her skin, when she hears her cell phone ringing from somewhere back in her bedroom. She doesn’t move – even the thought of it doing so is exhausting. The phone keeps ringing, though, making sure that she knows that whomever might be calling has no intention of giving up until she answers it.

With a weary groan, she steps from the shower, immediately shivering as the cool air prickles her skin, the incessant ringing making her head pound. Wrapping a towel around her, she makes her way to her phone and plucks it up, practically punching the button to take the call. “What?” she growls out, vaguely aware that she didn’t even check to see who was calling.

“Good morning to you, too, Your Majesty,” Emma quips, sounding far too amused. Based on the sounds behind her, she’s either at the Sheriff’s Station or over at City Hall.

City Hall.

Regina’s eyes widen. “Fuck, I’m late,” she breathes.

"I usually prefer to go by Emma, but -"

"Emma," Regina pleads, because every day seems like an opportunity to screw up and lose the faith she's been working so hard to build. The recent villain-created messes in town have done her no favors; so many citizens walking around, looking at her like they're just waiting for her to screw up again. So she can't. She won't.

“Relax,” Emma soothes. “You're not late yet. But you will be in about ten minutes.” There’s a brief pause, and then carefully, like she already knows what answer she’s going to get, “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I just…overslept.” Not entirely true; while she had slept for about thirty minutes longer than normal, that time had been built into her preparation window in order to give herself a buffer. The bigger problem had been the getting out of the bed part, which had seemed unusually difficult this morning. And then the very long shower.

Oh, and the difficulty she's suddenly having breathing; yeah, that's a problem.

“How much time you need me to stall for?” When there's no reply, Emma asks, her voice soft, "Regina?"

“Sorry, I...fifteen minutes. Have your mother kick off the meeting. She can start presenting her plan to update the curriculums across all of the schools. I’ll be there shortly.”

“You got it. You’re sure you’re okay? You sound like you're out of breath."

“I was in the shower when you called."

"Oh."

Regina rolls her eyes, amused by the curiously flirtatious turn their relationship has taken as of late. These past few months of working so closely together to find the Author and then having that time turn personal has changed their relationship significantly. She's just not entirely sure _what_ it's changed to just yet. "Don't you have something you should be doing for me right now, Sheriff?"

Emma snorts. “See you in a bit.” The line clicks off and Regina stares at the phone, in disbelief.

She’s irritated at herself for forgetting the council meeting that she had arranged; she'd specifically put this group of influential members of the community together to try to find common ground and come to a consensus about otherwise controversial town initiatives. She's deeply annoyed at how flaky her memory seems to be as of late, very simple things drifting in and out of her head. This, too, she attributes to her exhaustion. Everything seems to be a bit of a struggle as of late. Maybe, she thinks, after the meeting today, she’ll take a few days off to relax. Maybe, if all goes well, she can spend the weekend curled up on her couch with a good book.

Calling it a plan, she drops her towel, and heads towards her closet.

There’s work to be done.

* * *

“Everything going all right?” David asks as he moves to stand next to his daughter. They’re both somewhat blocking the door, but mostly they’re there to ensure that arguments don’t get out of hand. He offers Emma a cup of coffee and then follows her gaze back towards the front of the room where Snow is presenting her plan to modernize the school curriculum.

“Yeah,” Emma confirms. “Just waiting on Regina to get here. I think everyone else is, too.”

“Your mom is very good at presenting,” David scolds.

“To children,” Emma counters, gesturing towards Snow’s brightly colored presentation boards.

“Be nice. Regina saw these and didn’t say a word about them.”

“No, she didn’t,” Emma agrees, frowning.

“That’s…a good thing?”

“Yeah, of course, but it’s Regina. When has she ever passed up a chance to harass Mom on stuff like this?"

“Fair point. You worried about her?”

“You have to admit she’s been a bit distracted for the last few weeks,” Emma notes. “She flaked out twice on me in the last few days, and I think she completely forgot about this meeting."

“That's not like her. Isn't she’s the one who put this whole meeting together?"

“Yup."

David shrugs. “She’s probably just busy right now. We all are.”

“I know."

“But you’re worried, anyway.” A statement said with a knowing smile.

Emma rolls her eyes. “God forbid I worry about our Mayor.”

“Is that all I am to you, Miss Swan?” a warm, throaty voice says from behind her.

Emma and David both turn, slightly shifting to allow Regina to move and then stand between them. A few other people in the room notice her arrival, suddenly perking up in their seats as if to show that they’re being attentive to the presentation happening at the front of the room. Even now, whether out of fear, respect or some hybrid of both, they respond to their Queen.

“Not touching that one,” Emma replies, because that’s a discussion they haven't yet had. One she’s not sure they’d even begin to know how to have. What are they to each other?

Impossible to define as always, paradoxically, seems to be the best way to define them.

So instead, Emma changes the subject. “You about ready to go?”

“Yes,” Regina murmurs, then scowls as she stares up towards the front of the room. “Who approved Snow doing her presentation looking like she’s delivering it to a summer camp cabin?”

“I thought you did,” Emma replies, looking over at her father.

Who says quietly, concern creeping into his tone, “You did, Regina. You approved it two nights ago. When you came over to our place for dinner."

“Oh, right," she replies, an unmistakable tremor of uncertainty in her tone. "I must have been thinking about something else.” She waves her hand as if to dismiss the point, but then immediately winces, her hand going to her chest, settling over her heart as if to try to calm it. Her other hand tracks up to her brow, perspiration suddenly dotting it.

“Regina?” Emma asks, unable to hide her alarm. Instinctively, she takes a step towards Regina.

Who is already stepping towards the front of the room, her eyes fixed on Snow’s.

Completely unaware, Snow brightly says, “That’s it for me. I’ll let Mayor Mills take over –“

It happens rapidly after that:

Regina is four, maybe five feet away from Emma and David when she suddenly wavers, her hand once again clutching at her chest. Eyes suddenly wide and practically bulging, she lets out a strangled gasp. Her knees buckle, and then she’s falling forward, her limbs flailing.

Emma and David surge towards her, too far away to break her fall, but close enough to get to her right as she hits the ground, the shocked whispers of the room providing an eerie backdrop.

Snow turns to Archie, “Call an ambulance, tell them it’s an emergency.” And then she’s moving to join her husband and daughter, Granny at her side. “Is she conscious?” Snow demands as she drops down next to David, the four of them creating a shield around Regina’s fallen form.

“No,” Emma says grimly, looking up. “Her pulse is racing. Mom, I think she’s having a heart attack.” The words are said with disbelief, absolute confusion over how this can be happening.

Fear and grim, fatalistic understanding that the _how_ doesn’t actually matter, only the reality that it _is_ happening.

Snow leans in, a hand going to Regina’s cheek. “Regina,” she calls out. First softly, and then sharply. “Open your eyes, please. Help is on the way. You just need to stay with us.”

Emma looks up at Granny. In the Enchanted Forest, her knowledge of the land and how it could help heal had been a game-changer during the war between Snow and Regina, but here in Storybrooke, in the middle of City Hall, all they can do is wait and hope for modernized medicine and technology to show up and hopefully save the day.

An irony in many ways.

“Snow!” Archie calls out from the doorway, about ninety excruciating seconds later (to each of them on the floor with Regina, the four minutes which have passed since her collapse feels like infinitely longer, time stretching as her heart begins to slow and die). “The ambulance is here!”

Emma’s up before her mother even says a word, rushing across the room to shove the doors open so that the medics can enter. “Over there,” she instructs and then guides them back.

Staying close and watching as the medics swap spots with Snow, David and Granny.

She tries to ignore the crowd in the room, still gathered so close.

Watching, gossiping, wondering.

Finally, the medics are standing up, Regina on the gurney, still unconscious. “I’m going with you,” Emma instructs, and then looks over at her mother. “Get Henry out of school.”

“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Snow confirms.

Emma's already racing after the medics. Racing after Regina.

* * *

“First things first, Regina is alive and stable. But, we have a big problem. Or at least she does,” Victor says as he strides out to meet them in the otherwise, thankfully, empty Waiting Room. He gracelessly drops himself down into the chair opposite Emma and Henry. Snow and David step in from the side, moving closer so they can hear everything.

“Was it a heart attack?” Emma asks, looking over at Henry, and seeing the intensity on his face. This is how he handles fear and shock – like both of his mothers: trying to find a battle to fight.

“Yes and no.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You either have one or you don’t,” Snow contests.

“If Regina was a normal person, that would be true, but she isn’t. She’s a magical being whose powers and life energy come to her from nature. Which means, there are other…considerations.”

“Whale, no riddles,” David growls. “What’s going on?”

Victor looks over at Henry. “You sure you want him here for this?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Is my mother all right?”

“No, she's not,” Victor says plainly. “Her heart is in very serious distress, and if the problem isn’t corrected, she is going to die. And before you ask, no, there's nothing that I can do to prevent it because it’s not biology that is causing Regina’s heart to fail, it’s magic. Her heart is crumbling, which means her magic is dying and when it finally dies, she will as well.”

“Wait. Crumbling like my grandpa’s heart was?” Henry asks.

“Kind of. Difference is, fixing him up just required stripping the darkness out of him. Because her magic comes to her elementally and organically, the same fix isn't possible for her. You can turn off elemental magic like she did during the first curse, but you can never completely remove it."

“Okay, but there has to be a fix, right?” Emma prompts.

“Maybe, but you’d have to ask Rumplestiltskin to explain it to you. If he’ll talk to you, that is. But I'd guess to save Regina, you have to return to the source of her magic."

“The source," Emma repeats. "I’m guessing we don’t have any idea where that might be?"

Victor shrugs. “Nope. Spent a lot of time trying to find it. Never did. Might not exist at all." He smirks at the multiple glares he receives for that. 

“Wait,” David asks, pushing past his constant desire to punch Whale, “Does this mean Emma is in danger, too?”

“Don’t know.”

“So, what do we do?” Snow demands. “We’re not just going to let Regina die.”

Victor looks like he’s about to say something cruel, his lip curling up into a sneer, but then he sees Henry’s face, and perhaps this town has helped more than just Regina when it comes to finding some humanity within. He sighs, “If there is a solution to be found, one of the other magic users in this town will know it. Rumplestiltskin or Blue would be who I would talk to. But I would urge you to hurry because Regina doesn’t have much time left.”

“How long?” Henry asks, his words catching as his throat closes up around them. He’s trying so very hard not to break down right now, trying so very hard to be strong enough for his mother.

“Couple days. A week if she’s lucky.”

“Okay,” Emma declares and then stands up. “I’ll go speak to Gold.”

“And I’ll find Blue,” Snow states. To David, she says, “You should stay here. Everyone in town knows by now that Regina collapsed. She’s come a long way in winning people back, but there’s always going to be some who won't be able to forgive her."

“Anyone who comes here will have to go through me to get to her,” David guarantees, his hand dropping down to his service pistol.

“Can I see my mom?” Henry asks, turning from his family back to Whale.

“Sure, but she’s in and out of consciousness and pretty drugged up.”

“I don’t care. I just don’t want her to be alone right now.” He blinks when he says this, tears suddenly forming in his eyes. A rough hand past his face, and they’re brushed away.

That is until Emma hugs him tight. “Stay with her,” she says softly. “Don't give up; I’ll find an answer.”

“We have to save her,” Henry declares. “We have to.”

She hugs him again, and then she and Snow head down the hallway.

Victor turns to Henry and with as much kindness as he can manage (which even then manages to come off sounding a tad oily), he says, “Let’s go see your mom.”

* * *

“We heard what happened,” Belle exclaims, greeting Emma as soon as she enters. She comes around the counter as she speaks, reaching out for Emma, but pulling up just short. “How is she?”

“Dying. Her magical heart is crumbling."

“Like mine did. And likely for much the same reason,” Rumple suggests as he hobbles in to join them from where he was in the back. “But I’m not sure what you’re expecting from us. I’m not a doctor, Miss Swan, and I haven’t any magic left as you well know. There’s nothing I can – or _would_ – do to assist Regina in this. Just as I had to pay for my evil, it would seem that it’s finally come time for her to do the same. Regardless of the Charmings’ wishes, Regina is going to have to face her past darkness and account for it.”

Declining the opportunity to debate with Rumple about just how much he has or hasn't actually paid for any of his evil, Emma says instead, “Maybe, but we’re not losing her. And I’m not here for you to save her. I’m here to find out if there’s a way to. Victor mentioned a magic source?”

“Won’t help you,” he dismisses.

"Does one exist?"

"Of course, but it still won't help you."

“Why wouldn’t it?” Belle challenges. “That source would be back in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Exactly. And we’re here. And I believe, all out of magic beans.”

“I doubt that as much as I doubt that you’re completely without magic,” Emma replies pointedly. “But you’re saying there is a way to save Regina in the Enchanted Forest?”

“Theoretically,” Rumple grudgingly allows. “But she would have to go see the –“

* * *

“- Guardians,” Blue tells her, an edge of disdain in her tone. “And I can’t imagine they’d be too interested in helping the Evil Queen retain the power she used to destroy that world.”

“She’s not the Evil Queen, anymore,” Snow insists.

“For some of us, she always will be that monster, regardless of any…so-called good deeds. Some souls are beyond salvation."

“And some of us could have and maybe even should have done more to help her before she became that monster,” Snow retorts, eyes blazing. “And some of us should remember that the former Evil Queen saved them from a terrible fate trapped forever in the Sorcerer’s Hat just a few months ago. As for salvation, well that's not really your call, is it?"

Blue twitches in irritation. “She’ll never succeed.”

“We'll worry about that part. Right now, I just need to understand how we do it.”

“The how is traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting an audience with one of the Guardians of Magic, as I said. The Guardians are responsible for protecting elemental magic both within a person and within the land from all insidious forces. They’re quite formidable. I believe they have even faced off against Rumplestilskin a time or two. And defeated him soundly enough to make him change his plans. Assuming they even allow Regina to plead her case, Regina will need to convince them that she’s truly become a better person and would no longer be a threat to corrupt magic as she has.”

“You seem so certain Regina has no chance. You know, I always thought you were an ally to us, but more and more I’m realizing that you’ve always just been –“

* * *

“- out for yourself,” Emma charges, the disgust dripping off her words.

“Perhaps so,” Rumple agrees, as smug as ever. “But I call it surviving, dearie. And I’ve done a pretty good job of it over the years. One would think, though, someone who wants my help –“

“I don’t want your help,” Emma corrects. “I want to make a deal –“

* * *

“ -with you.”

“You’re thinking of the wrong person, Snow,” Blue sniffs. “I don’t make deals.”

“You’re going to this time. Because I need something from you.”

“Which is what exactly?”

“How exactly to find the Guardian in the Enchanted Forest.”

“You’re really serious about this? And what, pray tell, is your plan? To somehow make your way over to the Enchanted Forest with the Evil Queen and convince them to save her life?”

“It’s Regina – and that’s exactly my plan.”

“And let me guess, your daughter will be the one going with her?"

Snow doesn’t reply, just stares back at Blue.

“That’s a dangerous association you’re allowing there, Snow. You must know that.”

“What I know is that their relationship is none of my business, and it’s certainly none of yours. I also know that it has done wonderful things for both of them. Regardless of what it is.”

“You’re a fool.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, I asked for help, and in exchange, I won’t make sure that everyone in this town knows that your dereliction of duty was responsible for the rise of the Evil Queen.”

“Fine,” Blue concedes, eyes blazing with anger. “I am –“

* * *

“- listening,” he replies, glancing over at Belle but unable to stop the imp in him from gravitating towards the deal. Most of his magic may have been stripped away from him, but there is still a part of him that will always lean towards the seduction of new power, that addictive desire forever corrupting him.

He supposes it’s a character trait of the man instead of the beast, after all this time.

“We both know you have a bean hidden away somewhere here," Emma challenges, practically daring him to lie to her.

And he could, but why bother? “Even if I did have one, there’s very little you could offer that would be…sufficient.”

“Maybe not here in Storybrooke, but I’d bet there’s something back in the Enchanted Forest you’d love me to bring back to you,” Emma notes sagely. “Maybe something you left there.”

“So very clever,” he observes, looking at her with that same unnerving curiosity he always seems to. An indication that for as much as he is annoyed by her reckless brashness and habitual uncouthness, he’s also intrigued by her determined ingenuity and bravery. He looks over at his wife again. Scowling, he relents. “Very well, Miss Swan, I will give you the one remaining bean that I have. But be aware that it is the last one, and that if you go there, you may not ever be able to return. It took a curse for me to get here. The first time.”

“And since then, we’ve had another curse and a couple portals jump us across different realms,” Emma shrugs. “I’ll take my chances. What do you want me to bring back?”

“A simple blade of grass," he says. "No more and no less."

"What will this simple blade of grass allow you to do?"

"I don't see how that's your business. You need something for me -"

"Grass from a broken world can make a powerful healing elixir," Belle explains, side-eying her husband.

"So you're trying to restore yourself to full power."

"I'm trying to make myself whole, Miss Swan, but the choice is yours."

"Promise me that whatever you're planning to do, you won't harm a single soul in this town. Or Regina."

"Believe it or not, I have no ill intent," he insists, removing a box from under the counter.

"I don't believe you so promise me."

He sighs in irritation. "You have my word," he grinds out. "Now do we have a deal, Miss Swan? The bean for the grass?" He holds up a simple white bean so she can see it.

"We do." She holds out her hand and accepts the bean. "But if you make me come after your ass for grass, Gold, I'm going to be pissed."

"I'll remember to be terrified," he mocks.

"Yeah," Emma replies, stepping towards the door. "I'm sure you will."

* * *

Regina's sleeping when he first steps into the room, her face turned into the pillows, her short, dark hair splayed in every direction. He’s always been one of the fortune few who get to see this woman unguarded and without her makeup, but this feels like too much. She looks pale and small, dwarfed by the bed and the machines.

Words he’s never once associated with his mother, even in her worst moments.

They’re hard words to deny right now, though, with her looking as fragile as she does. He looks around the room, taking in the IVs and the machine, the steady beep of her troubled heart ringing in his ears. “Mom,” Henry whispers, sliding into the chair next to her bed, trying desperately not to notice the tube beneath her nose, providing oxygen to her.

Her eyes flicker and open and instinctively, she smiles sleepily up at him. “Hen..Henry.”

“Mom. Hey, you're awake.”

“I think so?" She blinks to clear the confusion away. "Henry, you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have to see me like this.”

“I don’t care,” he argues. “I just care that you’re still here. You really scared me. You don’t get to give up on me, okay? Grandma and Emma are out there looking for a way to get you better. We didn’t come this far to give up now.”

“We have come a long way, haven’t we? My beautiful Little Prince.”

“There’s a lot further to go. So, you have to keep fighting. You have to.”

“I’m tired. Do you mind if I close my eyes?”

The weariness in her voice frightens him; she sounds so exhausted and so defeated. “Okay,” he reluctantly agrees. “But only if you promise to wake up. You don’t lie to me anymore, right?”

“Never again,” she replies, reaching out for his hand. “I’ll wake up. Will you stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere."

She takes a deep breath, mumbles something that sounds like "I love you", and then closes her eyes.

Never letting go of his hand.

* * *

When she wakes again, he’s still holding her hand, but he’s facing away from her, listening as his mother and grandmother discuss their plan. Eyes too heavy to fully open, she stays still.

Hearing Snow say, “We should all go together.”

“No,” Emma disagrees. “This town needs you. It needs leadership. It needs someone to keep Rumple in check. If I’m gone and Regina’s gone, it has to be you and Dad.”

“I know,” Snow admits. “I just…I just got you back. Again.”

“And I’ll keep coming back to you guys. I promise. It may take a while for us to find another bean or portal or whatever, but we’re going to come home. Me, Henry, Regina. All of us.”

“Where are we going?” Regina finally asks, finally forcing her eyes open.

“Hey, you,” Emma greets as they all turn to face the Queen. “How are you feeling?”

“Run over. Answer the question, Miss Swan.”

“You better answer the question,” Henry says with the slightest smile.

Because if his mother is still being impatient and cranky, that means she’s still herself.

And still fighting.

“We’re going back to the Enchanted Forest,” Emma tells her. “To heal your magic.”

“My magic?” Regina touches her chest, then. “Oh. My heart is…” she trails off, looking as though she’s about to cry. Instead, she forces out, “I guess none of it mattered.”

“None of what?” Snow prompts.

“Rumple’s heart crumbled after he tried to sacrifice Emma to the sorcerer’s hat. Me? I’ve been trying to do the right thing. I gave up on Robin and I…I’ve been trying. I thought it mattered.”

“It does,” Emma says vehemently.

“It does,” Henry confirms. “And that’s why we’re going to the Enchanted Forest. So that we can convince the Guardians of how much you’ve changed and get them to heal your heart.”

“The Guardians,” Regina repeats and then laughs. The sound is pained, and just a tick short of what sounds like hysteria. “I know of the Guardians. Every magic user knows of them. They are arbitrators and judges. They won’t help me. They’ll reject and condemn me just like like fairies did.”

“Well, I've never heard of them before this, and I still think we can convince them to hear you out,” Emma assures her. “You know how persistent I can be.”

“She’s right, Mom. They will listen to the Savior.” He grins. “And if need be, the Author.”

“Henry, no, it’s dangerous over there. You shouldn’t –“

“I’m going with you. We’re not having this discussion.”

“I already tried,” Emma advises. “He told me if we try not to take him, he’ll find a way. I kind of believe him, to be honest. So –“

“Fine,” Regina relents. “But this plan…you two are putting yourself in terrible danger for –“

“Our family,” Snow finishes. “It’s what we do.”

“I need more drugs,” Regina moans.

“We’ll bring some with us,” Emma promises. “We’re going to need you up and moving enough to get to the Guardian’s Spring, so we’ll bring enough for the trip."

“You know this is an idiotic plan, right? Even for you.”

“I know that despite all your bluster, you would do the same thing for me.”

Regina doesn’t argue the point, just falls back, a hand once again over her chest.

“Rest,” Emma urges. “We’re going to head out in the morning.”

“There’s no way I can talk you out of this, right?”

“No. No way. So, you might as well just deal with it. We’re going on a road trip."

“Of course we are,” Regina murmurs and then closes her eyes again.

Henry says to Emma, “Go get ready. I’ll stay with her.”

“You should try to get some sleep,” Snow urges, her hand on his shoulder. “I can stay with her so you can go back to the loft and –“

“I’m not leaving her. This is where I need to be.”

“I’ll have Whale bring a cot in,” Emma tells him. She leans down and kisses him on the top of the head and then turns to Regina. “See you in the morning, Your Majesty.”

“Go away, Swan.”

Emma grins at that, and then steps out of the room, leaving Henry and Snow behind.

“Henry, can I have a minute with your mom,” Snow requests. “Just a quick one.”

He looks surprised at first but then quickly adapts. “Yeah, I’ll go get a chocolate bar.”

“Bring me back one,” Snow requests.

“Okay.” He steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Regina’s eyes open. “If you’re hoping I can talk Emma out of this –“

“I’m not. No one could. And she had to talk me out of going, too.”

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry,” Regina forces out, her voice cracking and slurring. “I’m separating your family again. I keep…doing it. Maybe that’s why this is happening. Because –“

“No,” Snow says firmly. “This is just something we have to confront. And we will. _You_ will. But you’re going to have Emma and Henry by your side. And all of us here when you get home.”

“You...you stayed behind to give me a pep talk?”

Snow chuckles. “I stayed behind so I could update you on what I know. I talked to Blue about the Guardians. She told me the one in charge of the Enchanted Forest and all of the magic within its people and its lands is called Serena. She's the one you'll have to convince to heal your heart. But to do that, you're going to have to be very honest. About...everything."

“Everything. Of course. Snow, what makes you think I can do any of this? I can barely lift my head or keep my eyes open and you want me to travel across the Enchanted Forest to go sit in confession with one of the Guardians of Magic. And not just one of them, but the one well noted for her serenity and balance. Things I’m decidedly _not_ noted for. This is a fool’s mission. You have to know that.”

“I know that two years ago, I fully believed that I had completely lost the woman who had once upon a time taught me what True Love actually looked like. I believed she was completely gone, lost to her rage and hatred. I know that a year ago, I was standing with that same woman in the middle of the Enchanted Forest, not as enemies but as allies. And that woman – _you_ \- saved my heart.”

“Maybe this is supposed to be justice,” Regina contests.

“I don’t believe that. And even if it were, justice can be merciful when justice is best served in other ways."

“One of these days,” Regina cautions. “You’re going to be wrong.”

“Maybe. But not this time.”

A knock on the door announces Henry’s return. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Snow says cheerfully. She steps aside, then, letting Henry slip back into the room.

“For you,” he says, offering the chocolate bar.

“Keep it. Your mother is a chocolate fiend.” And with that, she’s out the door, closing it softly behind her.

“You know this family is insane, right?” Regina asks him.

“Yup,” he chirps, sitting down next to her and reaching for her hand, their fingers immediately interlacing. “But we wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“No,” Regina grudgingly admits. “I suppose not.”

* * *

Emma arrives back at the hospital first thing in the morning, a change of clothes for both Regina and Henry in hand. The comfortable outdoor kind. She hands Henry his stack and then waits for him to disappear into the bathroom to change before saying to a very tired looking Regina, “I know these aren’t exactly your normal clothes because you were the Queen over there –“

“But we need to blend in,” Regina finishes. She glances down at the stack – leather riding pants, a long-sleeved blouse and a vest. The kind of clothes she’d worn long ago when she had been a young Queen looking for ways to escape the pain and suffocation of her terrible marriage. Her fingers trace over the leather, thinking back to days spent learning the darkest of magics, all while lying to herself about just how twisted and broken her heart and soul were becoming. By the time she’d recognized the lie for what it was, it’d been far too late and the lives she’d destroyed – inclusive of her own – had been many and terrible. By the time she’d realized what she’d truly become, she’d been too far gone with anger and grief to be able to step back from the brink of madness and despair.

Now, she supposes, it’s time to face those terrible and wicked choices. Or die trying.

“Yeah, we do,” Emma acknowledges, seemingly unaware of how her mind has drifted back to the past. “At least until we figure out the dynamic over there. My mom told me that there were quite a few people left behind in the Enchanted Forest after the first curse, and many of them didn’t come back here after Zelena’s curse.”

“She’s right,” Regina says. Wincing, she pushes herself out of the bed, shaking her head when Emma offers an arm to help. “I can dress myself,” she states, already sounding out of breath.

“I know,” Emma acknowledges, but her brow is furrowed. Like she’s wondering about the wisdom of this plan with Regina so clearly weak. But what choice do they have?

Leaving Regina behind and going alone would be pointless; the Guardians are unlikely to take her at her word about the former Evil Queen. No, the only realistic chance for Regina is to return to the source of her magic and somehow convince the Guardians herself that she’s become a better person.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Regina scolds. “Like you think I’m about to drop dead.”

“Mom,” Henry says as he stops out of the bathroom, dressed in riding pants and a thin white cotton shirt, and looking very much like a young prince off to a new adventure. “No pushing us away.”

“I’m not trying to. But you have to understand, I’ve always taken care of myself. Sometimes not well, I admit, and terrible things have happened, but…I can’t be an invalid. I don’t want to be responsible for either of you being hurt because you’re watching me instead of watching your surroundings. The Enchanted Forest is horribly misnamed. If we are very, very lucky, we will make it to the Spring without being set upon by thieves or wild animals. The chances are, though, we will need to fight for our lives at least once. I have to be able to help.”

“We know,” Emma agrees. “And you will. But we are allowed to worry about you.” She chews her lip, before hesitantly adding, “You kind of mean a lot to us…to _me_.”

Unable to properly answer that, Regina settles for nodding jerkily. Then, just to change the subject (all the while ignoring Henry’s curious looks towards his mothers), she says, “Best I can tell, it would seem that my sister’s curse only took the castle and the immediately surrounding areas. The only reason Robin and his men came with us when the second curse was cast was because they’d moved onto the castle grounds after Zelena’s obnoxiously infernal monkeys overran the forest and forced them to retreat from it. The vast majority of the civilians and the further out towns and villages should still be there. Unfortunately, us getting swept away probably did them no favors. There was already a considerable power vacuum when we arrived. It’s probably the only reason they were willing to accept me as Queen again. It was either that or bend the knee to Zelena. The tyrant you know or the tyrant with the monkeys."

“I'll take you any day,” Emma replies immediately, and then seems to realize what she’s said.

“Will you now?” Regina teases.

Henry’s eyebrow lifts, but he says nothing, just watches.

“Uh, yeah. You know what? I’m going to let you get dressed in private. Me and Henry, we’re going to go finish up your paperwork and make sure all of your painkillers are all accounted for. Come on, Kid.” And with that, she’s out of the room. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he follows her.

Leaving Regina alone with the stack of clothes and her thoughts.

A hand over her heart (though it’s not aching for the time being; it just feels tight and heavy) she allows her mind to drift backwards to morning rides across the open plains with Rocinante, afternoons spent under trees with Daniel, and nights full of staring up at the stars hoping for a future full of happiness.

One single moment in the stables had destroyed all of that, but still those memories persist.

Still, there’s the tiniest kernel of that hope still deep within her badly damaged heart.

Hope for what? She’s not sure. It’s not defined. But it’s for something bigger and better.Something, she thinks, that would make the young girl that once was incredibly happy.

These thoughts are enough to give her the strength to slip into these familiar old clothes. Enough to make her find her fight, despite the weakness of her body.

And they’re enough to push her towards the battle of her life and her heart.

Even if that means finally, once and for all, facing the darkness she'd invited in, and the evil she'd let out. 


	2. 2

By mid afternoon, she’s standing in the middle of Storybrooke with Emma and Henry at her side, waiting for Snow and David to arrive to say their goodbyes. Shivering beneath the brisk coolness of the Maine air, Regina roughly pulls her scarlet colored Enchanted Forest style cloak around her shoulders.

“You going to need something warmer?” Emma asks, coming over to her.

“Probably, but I’d really prefer not to carry around more bulk.” She motions to the three large leather duffels on the cement next to their feet. “These are already going to be arduous enough to move around with.”

“Maybe not,” Henry corrects. “Look.” He gestures towards the road, drawing all of their attention to the horses galloping towards them. “They’re bringing us horses.”

“Oh. Great,” Emma says, clearly not as impressed as he is.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” Regina asks, an eyebrow up in bemusement. 

“A pony…once.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Then, no. But I’m a quick learner.”

“You’re going to have be.”

“Hey,” Henry breaks in. “There’s four horses, not three. Who’s coming with us?”

“I am,” Granny announces as she brings a gray and white speckled horse to a stop. She pats his side, and then gracefully dismounts. “I know you’ve got drugs from this world, but chances are, you’re going to need some help making sure our Queen gets where she needs to in one place. That's where I come in.” When Emma starts to object, Granny cuts her off with,“And besides, my Red is over there. That’s where I want to be.” These last words are said in her usual gruff tone, but with just the slightest edge of held-back emotion in them. 

“She comes,” Regina says simply, and then steps back to inspect the other three horses. None of them will ever be as impressive as Rocinante once was, but the all-black stallion that David is upon looks like a worthy warrior. She makes her way over to them. “What’s his name?”

“Black Winter.”

“Fitting,” she allows. “He will do.” She looks over at the other two and then calls out to Emma and Henry, “Henry, take the Paint Horse. Emma, the Appaloosa.” When neither of them moves, both of them clearly confused, she waves her hand impatiently. “Emma, one on the left. Henry, on the right.”

“Right,” Emma mutters and then she’s moving towards the handsome black and white spotted horse her mother is on. “Mom, I don’t have a clue,” she admits.

“I know,” Snow chuckles, and then effortlessly dismounts. “So we’re going to do a quick train-up. But when you’re over there, let Regina guide you. She’s the most accomplished rider you’ll ever meet.”

“Really?”

“Really. She may not ride as much anymore, but when she was younger, she was exceptional," Snow gushes.

"Okay, what about him?" Emma queries, gesturing towards the horse that is supposed to be hers.

"He is Lucky. Lucky is very gentle and sweet. Perfect for an inexperienced rider.”

“What about the one Henry’s on?”

Snow turns her head to look, watching as Leroy helps Henry up onto the saddle. “That’s Bolt. He’s a bit of a brat but he’s not a control freak like Black Winter is. But Regina always liked her horses to be as strong as she is so they should find a rhythm fairly quickly. Which...is a problem."

“How so?”

“That’s a strong horse,” Snow muses.

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“And Regina isn’t strong right now. Everything I said before would be true if she were –“

“Shut up, Snow,” Regina says as she crosses over. Then, just to show how utterly defiant she is about anyone telling her what she can and cannot do (or does or does not have enough strength for) she leans down and picks up the leather duffel, bringing it back over to her horse.

Not letting them see how even the effort makes her break out in sweat, her breath catching.

Because even now, she believes as fiercely as she ever has that showing vulnerability will only cause her more pain.

“We’ll be watching over her,” Emma assures her mother. “Now show me what I need to know.”

* * *

It’s a couple hours later when Emma gently pats the leather duffel which has been loaded up onto Lucky’s back and announces, “Okay, I think we’re probably as ready as we’re ever going to be.” Which is both exciting and terrifying, but this whole impending adventure is exactly that.

“Which means it’s time for everyone to say their mushy goodbyes, and then we need to get-a-moving,” Granny orders, already mounted up on her horse. Dressed for what looks like frontier life, and looking incredibly comfortable and at-home in the saddle, Granny leans back to watch. Somewhat knowing that this might be her last time seeing this absurd little town. Because, she thinks, even if they do find a magic bean, unless Red wants to return to Storybrooke, the chances of her ever coming back here are slim. The Enchanted Forest really is home for her and her old world nature, and though she thankfully doesn’t change with the full moon anymore, she misses her more instinctual and organic connection to the land.

Still, this town has been a blessing, as much as it ever was a curse.

An awakening and healing for so many of them.

Including the Queen.

She watches as Regina gingerly steps forward, into Snow’s arms, the embrace genuine and heartfelt. The two of them once terrible enemies whose bitter and cruel feud had destroyed a realm. Now, they’re family, the sins of the past forgiven. Her eyes flicker over to where Emma is hugging David. A father and daughter who had been deprived of growing up together, but have still somehow managed to forge a deep connection due to their many similarities.

And young Henry, the prince of everyone’s eye. The tie which had pulled this whole family – and this town - back together. Such an amazing young man.

She watches as Regina and Emma and Henry finally pull away from the embraces (and Snow’s tears), each of them striding towards their horses. She sees Regina hitch, wincing, her hand going to her chest as she fights for strength and composure. She hears, “I’m okay.”

She hears Emma reply, “I know you are.”

And then Regina is straightening and making her way over to Black Winter. Once mounted, she looks over at Granny and haughtily asks, “Something you’d like to say, Eugenia?”

“Not a thing,” Granny replies, eyes twinkling. Like she has a million things to say.

And eventually, she’s going to say them all.

“Emma,” Regina calls out. “Whenever you’re ready.”

From atop Lucky, Emma reaches into her pocket and extracts the bean that Gold had given to her. Cupping it in her palm, she looks back to her parents. “If something happens –“

“It won’t,” David assures her.

“I know, but…if it does…thank you for giving me home.”

“Home is all of us, Emma, and we will see you when you get back to it,” Snow tells her, and then she’s taking David’s hand and pulling him out of the way of where the bean will land.

“Ready, Your Majesty?” Emma asks, turning Lucky towards Regina.

“Throw the bean, Emma. And think about where we’re going.”

Taking a deep breath, Emma pulls back and then flings the bean towards the patch of asphalt in front of them. As it spins and expands, a bright spinning portal exploding open beneath it, she moves Lucky towards it, thinking, “Enchanted Forest.”

* * *

The first thing Emma notices as she rides through the portal is that it appears to be significantly later in the evening here than it was back in Storybrooke, the moon high up in the night sky, a million sparkling stars around it. Trying to wrap her mind around time changes like that almost makes her head hurt. This isn’t her first time in the Enchanted Forest thanks to the wraith and then later on the fall through the time portal with Hook and then, of course Issac's irritating little fan fiction world, but it’s still a bit shocking how upside-down things can be here compared to what she's used to.

“Home sweet home,” Regina murmurs as she dismounts. She shivers, pulling her cloak around her shoulders again. Thanks to the horses and the gear that they were able to pack, she could bring along some heavier clothing, but for now, this will suffice. The air isn’t particularly crisp, which leads her to believe that her chilliness is more due to her illness than it is the weather.

“You miss it?” Emma queries, dismounting as well. She offers a small smile as Henry comes up beside her, his horse meandering off to the side to join the other steeds. To their right, Granny starts to move around the area, poking into the bushes with her crossbow.

“Sometimes,” Regina allows. “But I’ve gotten rather used to plumbing. And bubble baths."

"Bubble baths?" Emma teases.

“No bubble baths here, Princess,” Granny snorts as she comes back over. “Just potty holes. But mind the red flowers; Dr. Whale sent along a fairly extensive first aide kit, but it won't go far if we have to use it to treat rashes. And those red flowers will get you far worse than poison ivy.”

“She’s right,” Regina acknowledges. “I had more than my fair share of rashes as a young girl, and they were unpleasant to say the least.” She looks around, then. “It's already pretty late. We should try to find a place to camp for the night. In the morning, we can try to find the village the fairy told Snow about.”

“Over there looks good,” Granny directs, pointing towards the bushes. “There’s an opening just beyond that. Covered up just enough to hide us from any accidental foot or horse traffic.”

“That will work.” Regina takes a step forward and then winces, staggering. The drugs in her system are helping to slow down the degradation of her heart and reduce the pain she’s in, but they can’t stop all of it. Teeth grit, she rides out the wave of searing tightness. She feels Emma’s hand on her elbow and Henry’s arm around her waist. Part of her bristles at having to be held up by them, but another part of her feels an incredible rush of warmth from it. “All right,” she finally breathes out once the tightness fades. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” Granny states, her voice as gruff as ever. “Let’s get you on your ass, Regina.”

“You know,” Regina says, taking on her haughtiest tone. “You could try treating me with respect.”

“Respect is me being here with you to ensure you survive. Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Emma puts in. “And she’s right; you need to be –”

She’s cut off abruptly by the sound of approaching hooves; before Emma can even think to act, Granny is reaching forward and with a hand on both of the women, yanking them down and into the bushes. Emma’s hand trails out as she goes, pulling Henry in along with them.

“Soldiers,” Regina notes, brow furrowing as she takes in the well-armored, heavily armed, torch-carrying men crossing their path. “Why are there soldiers here?”

“You didn’t have soldiers when you were here before?” Emma queries, her voice low.

Regina shakes her head. “Not like these. We had civilian patrols and there were constables in all of the towns, but we hadn’t gotten around to setting up an official military by the time Zelena cast the curse because we hadn't fully set up the government by then. Those men there are wearing the banner of a kingdom. But I don’t recognize it.”

“That’s bad, right?” Henry asks.

“Any time royals are doing their royal thing, it’s bad for normal people,” Granny insists.

“Is that so? Did you think that about Snow and David or just me?” Regina demands.

“I said any time, didn’t I? Now shush unless you want to find out who their King is.”

“Or Queen,” Regina mutters, and then rolls her eyes when Emma gives an exasperated look.

Just because she’s sick and probably dying doesn’t mean she’s going to tone down the sarcasm.

Still, silence is certainly advisable considering their current situation; there’s four men riding almost leisurely past them on massive, incredibly athletic looking young stallions. Each soldier is broad and strong, showing off the kind of defined physique the Queen would have looked for in her own soldiers long ago. Sporting polished black armor emblazoned with the symbol of a gargoyle, they’re all well-armed, each of them carrying at least a sword with them. 

“You’re sure they came back this way?” one of them says, an accent drawing out his words.

“Aye, about seven of them. Including the Romani bitch. Seems the rats are trying to get home,” another states, drawing a curiously disgusted look from Regina.

“Well, let’s go help them with that,” the first soldier says, and the men laugh. They’re out of sight about fifteen seconds later, leaving only imprints in the dirt behind them.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Emma notes.

"It's probably not," Regina concedes, looking strangely distracted.

“No, it's probably not. But it’s also not our problem,” Granny points out. “We’re here for one thing.”

“I know, but –”

“You’re not the Savior here.”

“She’s always the Savior,” Henry counters.

“No,” Regina corrects. “She’s Emma. It just so happens that Savior and Emma tend to be synonymous.” Then looking over at Emma. “What are you thinking, Swan?”

“I’m thinking those creeps sounded like they were about to go hurt some people.”

“Need I remind you two before you go galloping off that we’re here because the Queen’s heart is failing and she doesn’t have much time or strength, and even if neither of those things were true - which they are - we have no idea who those men belong to? I thought the plan was to get Regina to the Spring without drawing attention?”

"They're mercenaries," Regina cuts in. "They're too well funded to be part of a large-scale army."

"So thugs with a paycheck," Emma concludes.

"Pretty much," Regina concedes. "Which means -" she looks over at Granny. "This realm has changed since the last time we were here."

"Fantastic," Granny grunts. "But that's even more reason for the two of you _not_ to go looking to start a fight with those boys."

“She’s right,” Emma agrees. “We need to –”

“Emma, I’m strong enough to back you up,” Regina declares “And you know that I’m _always_ up for a fight.”

“It’s a wonder either of you survived to adulthood with your red asses,” Granny growls and then she’s hitching her crossbow onto her hip. “All right, then, what’s the plan?”

“The plan,” Emma answers as she stands up and then helps Regina back to her feet. “Is for you and Henry to stay back here. Set up camp. Regina and I will follow the soldiers and see if we can figure out who or what they’re chasing. If it’s nothing, we’ll be right back. If it’s something, well –”

“You’ll cause trouble as usual,” Granny snaps. “I know. All of you Charmings are the same –”

Regina looks outraged. “I am not a –”

“Yeah, you are,” Granny says with an impatient wave of her hand. “Stubborn, reckless, bone-headed idiots running into battles that aren’t yours. Every single one of you is a fool.”

“Yeah, well, better than standing by and doing nothing and letting innocent people get hurt,” Emma argues. “I’ll take my chances.” 

“Wait, I want to go,” Henry protests. “I didn’t come here just to tend horses.”

Granny makes a snorting sound at that and then stalks away, leading two of the horses towards the semi-clearing she’d chosen as their camp for the night.

“No, you didn’t,” Regina concurs, stepping towards him, her tone suddenly quite somber. “You came here to be with me in case my heart gives out and…” she trails off. She takes a deep (rattling) breath and then starts again. “You came with me because you’re my son and for reasons beyond my understanding, you love me. But that doesn’t mean you should be in the middle of a fight.”

“One of these days, both of you are going to have to stop protecting me,” Henry grumbles.

“One day, Kid,” Emma promises. “But not today. Regina, one horse or two?”

“One. You behind me.”

“Okay,” Emma nods. She looks back at Henry and winks at him. “Chin up. We still have an adventure ahead of us once we get back.”

“Fine, but I mean it: you two are going to have to stop treating me like a child,” Henry says again. “I can handle whatever this place throws at us. This isn’t my first time in the Enchanted Forest. We were all here together in Issac’s upside-down world. And I saved you there, Emma.”

“And then I saved you,” Regina replies. She doesn’t add that she’d done it by taking a blade from Rumplestiltskin across the chest. Though that death hadn’t stuck, the memory of feeling herself bleed out is one that she won’t soon forget. Part of her wonders if that death and eventual rebirth back in Storybrooke had sped up the degradation of her magical heart. She reaches over and touches Henry’s face. “Life can be such a wonderful thing, but it can also be terrible. Don't be in such a hurry to learn the difference, my beautiful boy.” And with that said, she turns and makes her way over to Black Winter, stalling only to catch her breath as one of the tightening spells comes on. Once again, Emma is right there, close at hand.

Emma says softly, “Maybe –”

Regina shakes her head. “Just give me a minute. It’ll pass.”

And then it does and she’s straightening, exhaling and offering a shaky smile. “I’m ready.”

“Then lead on, Your Majesty.”

Regina grins as she mounts her horse. “I always have enjoyed when you called me that.”

“I know,” Emma chuckles, and then climbs on behind Regina. And then just sits there.

“Arms around me, Emma,” Regina prompts.

“Right.” Leaning forward, she lightly loops her arms around Regina’s front.

“You can hold on tighter; I promise I won’t break.”

“I was trying to…you know what, forget it.”

“I also promise I don’t mind,” Regina amends, turning her head to look at Emma.

Seeing the soft sincerity in those dark eyes, Emma finds herself bobbing her head in agreement even as she tightens her hold around Regina’s hips, her front pressing up against Regina’s back.

An incredibly intimate position.

As ridiculous as it to be aware of that in this here and now.

“Good to go,” Emma finally announces, clearing her throat.

From in front of her, even with her heart crumbling and her body aching, Regina finds herself enjoying Emma’s clear nervousness. She thinks to tease her a bit just for the fun of it (and because more and more, it feels like these little moments are leading them somewhere), but a flash of pain across her breast reminds her just how terribly short time is right now.

So, she presses her foot into Black Winter’s side and presses him forward.

* * *

As the night continues to lengthen, the air gets colder and colder.

But that’s not what Regina notices as she and Emma ride down the hill, following the soldiers into the canyon. No, what she notices is the stark desolation of the land. Far worse than even after the curse, this looks as though there’s been a strategic burn-out, meant to harden the ground and make it unsuitable for crops. Which only happens when someone is trying to poison and control a populace. The further down they get, the more the trees disappear, only sad stumps remaining to show what once were proudly aged pines and oaks.

“What is this?” Emma asks.

“War,” Regina replies immediately, recognizing the signs in a way which makes her stomach sink as her fears find themselves confirmed. Because many years ago, as the Evil Queen, she’d had more than one township burned out this way. What better way to break people than to remove their hope of ever rebuilding?

“You okay?”

“No.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” There’s a pause and then because she’s Emma, she pushes again. “Because if you did –”

“I don’t.”

“You know I’m here to listen.”

“Did you get this part from your mother?”

“The trying to be a good friend part or –”

“The obnoxious refusing to listen when someone tells you they’d rather be left alone with their thoughts part,” Regina shoots back. “When we were here during the Lost Year, your mother was forever chasing me around to try to get me to open up and just talk to her. It was annoying.”

“Okay, but we have a lot of riding ahead of us. Talking can help pass the time."

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now shut up and look.” She points ahead and into the canyon, towards where the soldiers they’ve been following have stopped. Moving Black Winter so that he’s more in the shadows and can’t be seen should the soldiers look back; they watch as the men start to remove their weapons from their saddles. 

"You know what's going on here, don't you?" Emma queries, seeing the same disgusted on her expression from before.

“It's a rat trap," Regina explains. Then sighs. “It’s what my men would call it when I would send them to hunt down the dissidents who were more often that not street rats. Their orders were always to find and slaughter the rebels with extreme prejudice. No mercy was ever to be shown."

“Oh.”

“Sometimes, it’s best not to know,” Regina cautions. “My past falls into that category.”

“I’m not afraid of your past, Regina.”

“You should be. It’s why you’re here instead of back at home with your family.” And with that, she dismounts the horse and after a brief stop to catch her breath, starts towards the canyon.

More concerned about her partner that she might care to admit, Emma nonetheless follows her lead. Dismounting, grabbing her service pistol and a rifle from the packs and then rushing to join her. “Our family,” she reminds Regina as she comes up next to her. “No matter how many times you try to push us - push _me_ \- away. Because I am like my mother in that regard. I won’t let you. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not. And we both _know_ you like it."

Regina curls her lip into a sneer but doesn’t actually respond with words. Instead, she reaches over and takes the rifle from Emma, checking to ensure it’s loaded. While she does technically still have her magic available to her, much like the rest of her, her magic is weak, and using it will likely cause her more harm.

Victor had warned her that it could even speed up the collapse of her heart.

And well, it’s not like they have a lot of time to begin with.

This little diversion of theirs? Probably a poor idea, but she knows Emma well enough to know that once there was even the slightest chance of innocent people being harmed, Emma would need to do something to try to prevent that. And well, Regina grouses to herself, somewhere along the way, she had fallen face-first into that mindset as well. And now here she is.

Sneaking up on four heavily armored and well-armed soldiers with a gun, a rifle, her wilting magic and Emma’s chaotic magic. That seems like quite the set-up for a terrible joke.

Still, she’s here and as they get closer and closer, they can hear voices.

A woman with an accent matching the one the soldier has defiantly saying, “You know that there are more of us out there, Gabriel. So many more of us. You’ll never be rid of us before we are rid of you.”

One of the soldiers - perhaps the one she identified as Gabriel - all but cackles, “Maybe, sweetheart. But in a minute, you won’t be one of them.”

“Now don’t be hasty, brother,” one of the other soldiers suggests. “We should hear her out.”

There’s a hard slap. And then the woman says, “Is that all of you’ve got? I’ll die before I let you touch me or anyone else. So, if you’re going to kill us, do it. But I’ll see you eventually in Hell.”

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart,” the soldier hisses. 

And that’s enough for Regina to step forward, moving before Emma can stop her.

“Not before I tear you apart first,” Regina growls, and them she’s firing the rifle, the kickback of it nearly dropping her, but the bullet staying true enough to lodge in the soldier’s throat. She swings around, then, pointing her rifle at the other men. Daring them to give her a reason to shoot.

“Are all of you all right?” Emma asks, coming up beside Regina and quickly turning her attention to the group of seven men and women standing across from them, on the opposite side of the soldiers. They’re as dirty and as ragtag as it gets, but somehow still looking like every resistance Emma has ever seen. Dressed all in black and full of righteous fire and defiance. At the front of the group is a beautiful green-eyed Romani woman, her dark hair cascading down her back in rambunctious untamable curls. Emma notes a cut about an inch long across the woman's cheek, blood leaking down.

“We are fine,” the woman replies, her head up.

“You won’t be,” the soldier with the accent growls, looking down in horror at his now dead companion. His gaze pops up to Regina, who is still holding the rifle on him. “Who the fuck are you? More importantly, do you know who we are? And what you’ve just done, you stupid bitch?"

Regina grins, her eyes practically glowing as her blood heats up, an old battle lust rushing savagely through her. “Oh, no, my dear boy, the question is, do you know who I am?” She drops the rifle down to her side and lifts up her other hand, allowing a small ball of fire to ignite.

“Regina,” Emma breathes. She reaches for Regina’s elbow, squeezing it in some desperate attempt to ground her. Knowing damn well that Regina can’t afford to use what little energy she has left like this. But also somewhat wondering about what effect Regina using what precious little magic she has left could have on their attempt to sway the Guardian into saving her life. Would they hold this against her and decide that the violence she is capable of means she’s not worthy of being saved? The thought chills Emma to the bone, but she’s dealt with enough decision-makers with their own goals and judgments to ever truly believe in the idea of a benevolent and forgiving one. Regina isn’t remotely the woman she once was, but that doesn’t mean that the force she had learned to survive with has calmed as much as she has over the last few years. When called to arms, Regina isn’t one to back down, and she’s never been one to do anything in half-measures. Including violence.

“You’re the Evil Queen,” the emerald-eyes woman gasps, wonder in her voice.

The men exchange looks. “You’re not supposed to be here,” the accented one - definitely Gabriel, Emma concludes - points out.

“Yes, well, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here, either. And yet here you are. But if you leave now, I’ll let you walk back with your skin still attached. Or I can use your bones to build a tent.”

The grip on her elbow tightens.

Regina turns her head almost imperceptibly, eyes finding Emma’s.

They’re brown, not purple. Which means this is a bluff.

Okay. Okay. _Okay_.

Emma’s other hand goes to her pistol. Just in case the bluff fails.

Just in case they have to fight their way out of this. As usual.

And then suddenly, Gabriel swings out, his fist balled, to strike Regina.

Emma fires faster; the soldier drops to the ground, whimpering, the bullet in his knee.

“Anyone else want to give it a go? I wouldn’t suggest it; I have plenty more bullets and I am a very good shot,” Emma warns. “So, if you force me to, I’ll put every single one of you down.”

“You’re going to regret this,” one of the other soldiers tell them. “He’ll have you both burnt at the stake for this.” He looks over at Regina. “But not until he’s driven you both to madness.”

“He’s too late for that,” Regina says quietly. “Now run away. And pray you never see me again.”

They don’t hesitate; they grab their fallen companions, move over to their horses, mount them and then quickly ride out, warily watching Regina the whole time. Aware of her reputation.

Terrified of her notorious rage.

It’s useful. It works.

Until they’re gone and Regina collapses, immediately down on one knee, moaning, tears filling her eyes from the pain. Emma is beside her instantly, an arm around her, her other hand holding her gun out in front of her, just in case the people they rescued aren’t friendlies.

But the woman says softly, “We’re not your enemy.” She steps forward, a holding her hand out to them. “My name is Esmerelda. My friends and I, we are part of a resistance. You saved our lives.”

Emma looks up at her, eyes narrowed. “Esmerelda,” she repeats.

“Yes,” Regina confirms, between grit teeth. “That one.”

Esmerelda lifts an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand –”

“We just need a minute,” Emma blurts out, pushing past the awkwardness of trying to find a way to tell a fairytale character that she’s also a character in a classic novel and a sing-along Disney film.

It’s weird enough just being the daughter of one of those characters.

“Is she wounded?” Esmerelda asks, kneeling beside Emma. She reaches out as if to touch Regina, but stops short, seemingly wary of upsetting a woman with Regina’s reputation.

“I’m fine,” Regina bites out, but it’s hard to pull off with the sweat beading her skin and the way she’s shivering against a night which is cool but not cold. “Just need to get back on my feet.”

“We need to get back to our camp,” Emma tells Esmerelda. “We have a journey to make.”

"You're planning to travel through the night?" Esmerelda asks, worry peppering her voice. She reaches into the bag she has at her side and removes a water-skin, handing it over to Emma

"Just back to our camp. Which is close," Emma assures her, taking the water-skin and offering it to Regina. "We'll do the rest of our journey during the day."

"Emma," Regina cautions, wondering how a woman who has been through as much as she has - especially in regards to betrayal - can still be so open with her words.

“Might I ask where to?” Esmerelda presses.

“Hopefully to someone who can heal her," Emma offers cryptically, understanding what Regina was trying to tell her, even as some instinct within her insists that Esmerelda can be trusted.

Gracefully accepting the non-answer, Esmerelda soothes,“My apologies for intruding where I’m not wanted; it’s merely that her energy feels…damaged. Like her life force is out of balance with nature.”

"Understatement," Regina murmurs, head pressed up against Emma's shoulder.

Clutching Regina against her, Emma changes the subject again, “Where are all of you headed to?”

Esmerelda seems like she's about to answer but before she can, one of the young men in her party says (and Emma thinks there's an odd edge to his tone), “Far to the west. Away from the raids. The Minister had ordered the eradication of all who have refused to pledge fidelity to him so we need to flee to safer lands."

Emma's lie detector pings. Which doesn't make a lot of sense, but...

“The Minister,” Regina echoes, and then she’s forcing herself up to feet. “I’m fine,” she says to Emma, her voice firm but still gentle. “Just perhaps too much, all at once.” Then to the others, “Let me guess, the Minister here is Frollo and he’s decided to go big on his brand of sadistic, blood-thirsty religious zealotry.”

"I see you've met him," Esmerelda observes.

"Unfortunately."

“He is of the opinion that he was chosen by the Great Above to be the natural Lord of these lands and that anyone who stands in opposition to him is therefore his enemy and must be destroyed. Whether by blood or fire, he is intent on remaking this land in his vision and making every creature upon it bow to him."

Regina frowns at that, thinking back to days when that had been her philosophy as well.

Except, of course, for the Great Above part.

“Are you running or are you regrouping?” Emma queries, taking note of their ragged appearances and lack of apparent weapons and rations.

“We were regrouping,” Esmerelda admits, glancing curiously up at the sky, like she's observing the growing darkness of it.

The Young Man who had spoken previously adds, “The Minister's army has been tracking us for weeks, picking us off whenever they can separate and entrap any of us. They’ve managed to destroy what little food we had, and steal our weapons, leaving us defenseless."

"He's right," Esmerelda concurs. "If you hadn’t shown up when you did, they most certainly would have slaughtered us."

“Well, they’re gone now,” Regina verifies. “At least for now. I would suggest using the time you have to do as you said: get as far away from this land as possible.”

"We're not leaving," Esmerelda declares, looking over at her companion and backing him down. And ah, that's why her lie detector had pinged, Emma realizes; they'd never actually intended to flee.

Apparently, she and Esmerelda have the same problem with saying more than they probably should.

"You're being a fool," Regina hisses. "I know men like Frollo. I was him. He won't ever show mercy."

“Regina,” Emma protests. “They can’t just let him drive them away from their homes.”

“Better a new home than dead.”

“We’re not leaving,” Esmerelda repeats. “With respect, Your Majesty, perhaps you have never had to fight simply for the right to exist. I am Romani; my entire life has been that. That man and cruel, bigoted monsters like him have tormented me in terrible ways.But he has not defeated me. I will not back down to Frollo or anyone else. I will see this fight through. Even to the death.”

“We’ve had our fair share of fights,” Emma counters, because Regina has suddenly gone quiet.

Which draws Esmerelda’s curious and yet somehow intuitive eyes to her. “You have,” she acknowledges, turning her attention back to Regina. “My apologies for presuming otherwise, Your Majesty, but my words remain the same. I will not run any further from that bastard. The Enchanted Forest may not have always been my home, but it is now so, and I will fight to my last breath to see it free of another tyrant.”

Her words are pointed and direct, yet another crushing reminder of Regina’s past.

She steps backwards, “We should go, Emma. Leave them to their fight.” Her back turned, she moves away from the group.

“Will you be all right?” Emma queries, ill at ease as always with leaving those in need behind.

“We will now. Thanks to the two of you.” Esmerelda looks over at Regina. Her voice softening, she suggests, “Perhaps after your journey has brought you to its next crossroad, we will meet again. Our fight would certainly benefit from strength such as yours. _And_ the Queen’s.” And with that said, she starts to move away, stopping only to add, "One more thing. Night is falling; get where you're going quickly. The Witching Hour around here means death. There are God-forsaken cursed creatures out here that exist in a different way than nature intended for them. If you see them don't hesitate to run."

Before Emma can think to ask more questions, Esmerelda is leading her party deeper into the canyon, disappearing around the bend.

“Well, that was…something,” Emma deadpans as she moves to Regina's side. "What do you think she meant about the cursed creatures?"

“No idea, but we probably shouldn't take any chances."

"The Witching Hour?"

"Midnight." Regina looks up at the sky. "We have a bit more ti..." her words trail off as pain shoots through her.

“Is it bad right now?”

“I could use the drugs we brought with us,” Regina allows, biting down on her lip, a small spot of blood showing.

In a flash of understanding and a fierce need to protect Regina, Emma steps forward sweeps an arm around Regina, pulling her close. It’s a sign of how much pain Regina is in that she doesn’t protest being practically cradled against Emma. An even more frightening sign when she allows Emma to put her up front on Black Winter and doesn’t mumble even a word of resistance when Emma - who has only been riding horses for the last sixteen hours of her life - reaches around her to take the reins. 

"I don't deserve you," Regina whispers, eyes closed, head back against Emma's shoulder.

"It's not about deserve," Emma counters. "It's never been about that."

Her only response is silence.

The ride back is slow and careful, owing as much to Emma’s unease on this powerful stallion as it to her concern over the now half-conscious woman slumped against her front side, held in place only by the strength of Emma’s arms. Every now and again, Emma murmurs some variation of, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” She thinks the words are mostly for herself.

All the while wondering if her desperate need to help the downtrodden had sped up the collapse of Regina’s heart. It’s a horrifying thought, but right now all she has is her thoughts.

And fears – those are at the party, as well.

A party she's very much not enjoying.

“Emma,” she hears.

“I’m here.”

“Emma,” Regina repeats, her head lolling.

“I’m here,” Emma says again, and tightens her hold on Regina. Earlier in the evening, she’d been cautious and nervous about having her arms around Regina like this, as acutely aware as ever of the strange surge of warmth she always feels when she touches Regina in any way. Now, giving Regina comfort and support while she’s struggling is the only thing she’s thinking about.

“I don’t want to die,” Regina tells her, and Emma’s not entirely sure the Queen is aware of what she’s saying, but she’s equally sure it doesn’t matter. Because this is the real Regina beneath all of the violent bluster and smirking bravado. This is the damaged woman, who so many years ago had been abandoned and rejected, and now just wants another chance to live.

“You’re not going to,” Emma promises. “I won’t let that happen.”

Regina doesn't reply, having succumbed to exhaustion.

She doesn’t stir again until they’re back in camp.


	3. 3.

“How is she?” Emma queries once Granny has stepped away from the tent Regina is in. Thanks to having the horses, they had managed to pack along with them four small one person pop-ups from home. Not particularly durable, it’s unlikely that these tents will be able to long-term survive any kind of serious weather, but they will do for now. They’re a shield from the elements and a place for all of them to rest for the night before they head off in search of the Guardians.

“Drugged up and resting. I don’t imagine I need to tell you how incredibly stupid that whole adventure of yours was?”

“I have to do what I think is right,” Emma reminds her.

“Just like your mother and father. But sometimes, there are consequences.”

"I know." Emma looks back over at the tent, noticing how Henry has tucked himself into the small space of it, curling behind his mother so as to keep her warm as the night continues to cool down.

Granny watches, observing the way Emma is chewing her lip as she gazes over at Regina and Henry. Her voice softening, Granny says to her, “Sometimes, the person you can’t imagine not having with you when you need to fight is the one you’re supposed to have with you when it's time to celebrate."

“I don’t –”

“Get some sleep, Sheriff; I’m sure you’ll find trouble for us to get into tomorrow.”

"When you do want me to trade you out on watch?"

"Don't stress yourself about it tonight. I'm rested and you need yours. We have a journey ahead of us." And with that said, and her crossbow on her hip, Granny stalks away to stand guard.

* * *

When morning comes, it’s with the smell of cooking meat.

A familiar smell which comforts Emma, until she smells pine as well and remembers where they are. Rolling over in her tent and groaning at the body-stiffening hardness of the ground, she takes a moment to collect herself before grabbing for her hoody and pushing herself up and out. Once standing fully up, she stretches, cracking her back and popping her knees.

The first person she sees is Henry, sitting on the ground in front of the fire, warming his hands with the flickering flames. “Hey, Kid.”

“Hey,” he greets, ducking his head slightly when she ruffles the top of it.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Granny chirps, from where she stands over a roasting bird.

“You’ve already been out hunting?”

“Someone had to. Henry and I took care of breakfast.”

“We did,” he says cheerfully from his place.

"Awesome," Emma drolls, her tone saying she thinks it's anything but that. To Granny, she asks, "Anything weird on watch last night?"

"Not a thing. Expecting something?"

"Not sure," Emma allows. Then asks Henry, "Where’s your mom?”

“Taking a bath down there,” Henry replies, pointing behind him. “There’s a stream back there.”

“Should she be alone?” Emma asks, eyebrow up.

“I wasn’t about to ask her that question,” Granny chuckles. “She might take it better from you.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I need to…pee, anyway. I’ll go check in on her.”

“Do that part over there,” Granny instructs, pointing to the side. “Don’t want it to go downhill.”

Emma wrinkles her nose and moves away, stopping only to grab a few sheets off the roll of toilet paper they’d brought along. One last small concession from their world. It won’t last long, but as long as it does, she’s going to enjoy it (Regina swears that once they locate more civilized lodging, the bathroom situation won’t be quite as bad as digging holes, but that fits firmly under the I’ll believe it when I see it category for Emma). She wanders off into the woods, does her business as quickly as possible, buries it up and then heads towards the water.

Halfway down the incline, she can hear the water and see glimpses of it. A little further down, she spots Regina’s neatly folded (of course) clothes sitting on a rock. Which seems like as good a time as any to announce herself so she doesn’t actually sneak up on a naked former Evil Queen. After all, she’s not supposed to be using magic in order to protect her health, so reactively lighting someone on fire who surprises her could be problematic for everyone involved.

Emma clears her throat, “Regina, I’m coming down. If it’s all right?”

There’s a splash and then, “It’s fine, Miss Swan. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Well, that’s not true.

Okay, the female anatomy part is most certainly true, but Regina’s uh, female anatomy is an _entirely_ different situation.

Emma scowls at her own runaway thoughts and just how silly and absurd they are. There’s absolutely nothing special about Regina’s female anatomy.

Beyond the fact, of course, that she’s stunningly beautiful, Emma thinks as she steps out onto the bank and catches site of Regina submerged in the stream, the water line hovering just over her breasts. Her damp dark hair slicked back, droplets sparkling off her cheeks, Regina grins up at her. “Something catch your eye, Sheriff?"

“What?” 

“You’re staring at me.”

“I…uh. No, I’m sorry. I’m not. I…are you all right?”

“I’m fine. As you can see. Are you all right? You see a bit…anxious. Want to talk about it?" And yes, she's enjoying getting to throw Emma's words back at her.

“No. And I'm fine. You just caught me off guard.”

“How did I do that? You knew I was down here. And it’s not like I stood up and showed you everything.”

“Regina –”

Regina takes a step forward in the water. “I could, though. If you’d like. Stand up. And show you... _everything_."

“Be careful of the games you’re playing,” Emma cautions.

“Maybe they’re not games.”

They stare at each other, each trying to gauge the sincerity of the other. Trying to figure out what this moment is and how they’d gotten here after years of minding the gap and always understanding that the connection between them needs to stay controlled and vaguely distant. But then, Emma supposes, they haven’t really been adhering to the distant part as of late.

The ride home last night, with Regina tucked into her arms, had been anything but distant.

Emma clears her throat. “I, uh, just wanted to check on you. I’ll let you finish your bath.”

“Okay,” Regina agrees, sounding almost disappointed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Emma nods, and turns away, starting back up the incline. She stops, then, and says over her shoulder, her voice quiet but emphatic, “It’s not a game for me, either.” She doesn’t wait around for an answer, instead quickly ascending the hill and escaping back into the camp.

* * *

Regina joins them around the fire about ten minutes later, her hair still slicked back and damp. She’s dressed back in the riding pants and the leather vest, her scarlet red cloak pulled around her shoulders. As she sits next to Henry, she looks across the pit and over to Emma and says, “We should be able to make it into the village by the mountain pass by this afternoon. From there, once we gather the offerings, if Blue knows what she's talking about - which is always doubtful - we should only be another half day away from the Guardian’s Spring.”

“With any luck and maybe a portal falling into our laps, we could all be home by tomorrow night,” Emma suggests, well aware of the unlikeness of her words. At least about the way home.

“Famous last words,” Granny grunts and then puts a metal bowl in front of Regina. “Pigeon.”

Regina looks like she’s about to decline so Emma gently says, “You need your strength."

“It’s really good, Mom,” Henry assures her. “Honestly.”

“Stop being a child, Regina,” Granny scolds. “There’s no pheasant and goose here. Eat up.”

“Fine,” Regina growls, unamused by being ganged up on. She stabs her fork at the meat like she’s trying to kill the bird a second time and then jams it into her mouth.

“Admit it, it’s not that bad,” Emma teases.

“Says the woman still wearing her Boston U hoodie and wishing she was eating a McMuffin.”

“There’s my Regina,” Emma replies. “Always my favorite morning person.”

“I was having a fine morning until this gamey, tasteless excuse for a bird was forced on me.”

“You’re welcome to do the hunting and cooking yourself,” Granny offers, seeming unperturbed by Regina’s tantrum. Probably because she remembers how much difficulty Regina had had adapting back to the food of this world during the year they’d been separated from Emma and Henry. It’d taken her weeks to finally eat a full meal, months to not be hideously sick after eating.

As it turns out, an incredibly sensitive stomach had been a well-hidden trauma of the Queen’s.

Still, their options out here are limited, and it’s imperative that Regina eat enough to have the energy she needs to be able to make the journey to request an audience with the Guardians.

“It’s fine,” Regina says quietly, and then moves the bowl away. “I’m going to go pack up my tent. We need to get going.” She stands up, staggers and then waves her hand behind her. Her way of declining assistance, her body language indicating that this - like much in her life - is a matter of pride.

Once she's gathered herself, she stiffly moves away, over towards her tent.

“What just happened?” Henry asks, his youthful confusion showing.

“Your mom is scared,” Emma tells him, eyes trailing after Regina.

So desperately wishing she could go after her, but understanding Regina needs the space.

For now.

And maybe she does, too, because this need to comfort and protect Regina is becoming overwhelming in its intensity. Not only because it’s scary on an emotional level, but because the more sensible part of her knows that Regina is too strong and independent to ever want a relationship built on being seen as someone who needs to be protected by another person. Even if that other person is someone she very much –

Emma stands up abruptly. “I’m gonna get changed and pack up, too. Thanks for breakfast.” She passes Granny, handing her the metal bowl and what’s left of her portion of the pigeon.

When she’s gone, Henry turns to Granny. “Something very weird just happened. With both of my moms? Right?”

“Something very weird always happens when your mothers are around. This can’t be the first time you’ve noticed,” Granny replies as she bends down to start breaking down the fire pit.

“No,” Henry admits, dropping down to help her. “But that was weird even for them.”

Granny hums in response. Then says, cryptically, “Everything changes with the tides.”

“is that a good thing?”

“Not for me to say. But don’t concern yourself too much with that; your mothers have a way of coming through every sea-change and probably always will. Regardless of the waves against them.”

“Emma's right: she's really freaked out. I think both of them are.”

“Probably. But they’re still fighting. Long as they are, they’ll find a way to survive like they always do.” She pats his arm. “But enough of this. Go on, I’ll take care of the fire. You go break down your tent and mine. We have a long day ahead of us and no more time for idle chit-chat.”

“Okay,” he grins, as able to see past her gruff as he can see past Regina’s.

“Go on,” she grumbles out again, and then turns her attention back to the fire.

Leaving him thinking about just how strange and emotionally defunct his extended family is.

* * *

The first part of the ride is easy and almost leisurely; given Regina’s declining health, they’re not pushing their horses to cover too much ground too quickly. The road is relatively flat with few rocks on it and the weather is mild and comfortable, allowing Regina to shed her cloak and enjoy a soft breeze wafting past her cheeks.

The only one who really talks on this part of the ride is Henry, who has always loathed the sound of silence. He prattles on about New York, filling Regina in on the adventures he’d had there. Now and again, Emma pipes in, usually to refute an embarrassing anecdote about herself.

Otherwise, though, it’s quiet and calm.

Until they turn off the forest road and onto the road that leads into the town of Oak Haven.

That’s where they see the signs of Frollo’s men having been there.

That's where they see the horror of a tyrant.

Burnt down trees, scorched grass and a line of decapitated heads about a hundred meters long.

“Henry, look away,” Regina orders, even though it’s far too late for that.

“These are old,” Granny notes, looking more disgusted than ill. Thanks to her many years as a werewolf as well as her time fighting beside Snow, she’s seen far too much violence to be unsettled by it. Repulsed by the brutality and senselessness of it, though, most certainly.

Regina follows her gaze. “You're right. Which likely means Frollo’s men have come and gone and if they’re anything like my soldiers were, they left nothing behind but ashes.” Her voice is trembling as she speaks, the guilt and horror of all of the blood on her hands hitting her all at once. It’s only the fact that they’ve slowed to a complete stop that keeps her from being seriously injured when she suddenly pitches forward and slumps against Black Winter’s mane. She hangs there, half on and half off the horse, and it’s just enough time for Emma to get to her before she falls. With noticeable tenderness, she brings Regina down, lowering her to the ground, her arms once again wrapped around the Queen.

“Mom?” Henry asks, eyes wide, and Gods, this is just too much.

Emma thinks they never should have allowed him to come along even as she acknowledges to herself that per his own words, he would have found a way to join them, regardless.

Regina whimpers, eyes flickering and then closing again.

“She’s getting worse,” Emma frets, looking up at Granny even as she tightens her hold on Regina. From her side, Henry approaches, dropping down beside them. And all Emma can think about is what Regina most certainly would be thinking if she was fully aware: he shouldn’t be seeing any of this. Not her pain, not her dying and most certainly not the warzone they’re in.

"Not sure we have that week Dr. Whale said we had." Granny climbs down from her horse and approaches with her saddlebag, fishing out a few of the pills. 

“No,” Emma declines. “We need her to be able to ride her horse and we need her to be able to stand up in front of the Guardians or none of this mean a damn thing.”

“She’s likely to be in terrible pain.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Regina forces out, eyes opening again and immediately squinting against the sun high above them.

“You have to stop doing this,” Emma pleads, a hand going up to cup Regina’s cheek before she can think about what she’s doing. “You’re scaring the shit out of our kid.”

“And you?”

“And me. You're scaring the shit out of me, too."

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this.” Regina tells them, “None of you should be here.”

“Well, it’s where we are,” Granny announces, as always disinterested in pointless discussions.

She’s been around the Charmings long enough to know they never abandon the ones they love.

“She’s right,” Emma says simply. “Think you can sit up?”

“Yeah.” Wincing, Regina forces herself into the sitting position, allowing Henry to brace her with an arm behind her arm. After a few breaths, she says, “The soldiers who did this may have come and gone from here, but the ones we fought last night have most certainly let their superiors know what happened by now. And they’ve probably told Frollo about me.”

“I'm guessing your history with this jackass is more than just mutual knowledge?” Emma queries, already knowing the answer.

Because it seems like Regina has history with every single Disney and storybook villain.

“You would be correct,” Regina replies, her tone dark, her eyes seeming to glint.. “And there’s very little love lost between us, which means if he knows, he’ll be hunting for us. For _me_.”

“Of course,” Granny sighs.

“Then how about we get to your Guardians, convince them to fix your heart, and get the hell out of this place as quick as possible,” Emma suggests. “As nice as the trees smell, I prefer my indoor plumbing and breakfasts made of sugar and jelly, not pigeon.” To Granny, she adds on, "No offense." 

Granny waves her hand dismissively.

"All right, enough of this," Regina mutters, and then she’s pushing herself to her feet. Her eyes track over to the piked heads, her expression going blank as she thinks about the times her own soldiers would have left such trails of violence and torment behind; symbols meant to horrify and frighten. “Let’s go,” she says finally, and wonders if she has any right to make it back home.

* * *

They know thirty seconds after they’ve entered Oak Haven that this town will be of no help. The original plan had been to stop for the night, get rest and refreshments, locate the typical expected offerings of wine and flowers to give to the Guardians and then head out in the morning.

But Oak Haven is in ruins, her buildings charred and shattered.

The streets are full of ash and decay, charred bodies discarded carelessly and cruelly.

On the walls which still stand are drawings of gargoyles. Most certainly Frollo's chosen symbol for himself.

“We need to keep moving,” Regina directs, looking over at her uncharacteristically silent son.

“What about the offering?” Emma queries. “Will they see us without it?”

“Most offerings are traditions as opposed to requirements,” Granny explains. “No one knows where they started, but every generation does what the one before it did. If these Guardians of yours are benevolent protectors of nature and magic, a lack of wine shouldn’t mean much to them."

“We can only hope,” Regina agrees, and then she’s turning Black Winter around to face the road leading towards the mountain road. “Henry, stay close to me as we ride.”

Emma thinks to remind Regina that she’s not terribly strong right now, and despite her winning the stand-off with the soldiers last night, there’s no guarantee that she’d be able to fend off more men if they came were to suddenly show up and come at them. But one look at Regina confirms for her that the Queen would find a way to protect her son if it came down to that. 

She will always find a way to protect him.

One last look back at the devastated town, and then Emma is turning away and guiding Lucky after the others, trying desperately not to inhale the smell of death and destruction as she goes.

* * *

The curiously tree-lined path to the Spring of the Guardians is rocky and steep, requiring slow, careful movements that take most of the late afternoon and into the night. Around midnight (the Witching Hour, Emma reminds herself, her hand settling on the butt of her gun even as she looks out and sees nothing out of the ordinary) they decide to stop and rest for a few hours. A couple hours of sleep and. a quick meal and then they're back on their horses and pushing on. It’s almost daybreak when they crest the final hill and approach what looks like an entirely out-of-place garden in the middle of what is otherwise a gray and dusty mesa.

“Finally,” Granny matters, dismounting and immediately stretching her joints. It’s been a very long time since she’s ridden at all, much less this long and on this kind of tough terrain.

To her side, she watches as Henry and Emma help Regina dismount, the Queen trembling as another wave of pain crushes through her, her hand placed over her failing heart. Her color has gone ashen again, profuse cold perspiration once more dotting her usually olive skin.

“We’re almost there,” Emma soothes. “Almost to the end.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Regina forces out. “I’m not sure we will like how this goes.”

“Come on,” Granny says, touching Henry’s arms. “Let’s get the horses settled so they can rest.”

“I –”

“You don’t need to hear this,” Granny tells him, and she’s guiding him away, not letting him pull away when he looks like he wants to double back and stay with his mothers through this.

Because as much as they both love and need him, this moment is about Regina and Emma and their unique understanding of each other.

“We never should have brought him with us."

“Probably not,” Emma concedes. “But he wasn’t going to let us leave him behind.”

“I know, but I meant what I said: this might not go the way we’d hoped for.”

“Either way, I’m not giving up and neither should you. Hey, look at me, okay?”  
]  
Emma turns her around, hands reaching out to touch Regina’s face and making her look up and make eye contact with her. It’s an astonishing amount of physical contact and intimacy – something even a week ago Emma wouldn’t have dared to do. But already so much has changed, and it feels like a lot of the protective walls between them have crumbled down.

“Emma, you don’t actually know me,” Regina whispers, voice trembling. “Not really.”

“Because I’ve only met the Queen in passing?”

“Because you’ve never seen me at my worst. What I did to you in Storybrooke when you first arrived, that was nothing compared to what I did when I was the actual Queen. I was a monster. I was the villain of the storybook.” She placed one hand over one of the hands Emma has on her face, and then her other hand on her chest, over her heart. “Maybe I deserve this.”

“I don’t believe that. And I do know you. Maybe I didn’t know when you were the Evil Queen, but I know who you are now. You’re more than who you were.”

“Emma, you need to understand – the Evil Queen that you want to dismiss as not me, she was responsible for brutalizing villages like the one we just left. She did horrific things in the name of vengeance. I did horrific things. How is a person like that worthy of forgiveness? Or…love.” The words are pointed, if not quite direct. A somber understanding of what's been happening between them.

“I don’t think love works that way,” Emma replies. “I think it just…is. And I think the person who taught my mother what love was, and who had her heart thawed by a little boy knows that.”

“I don’t want to die,” Regina admits. “For once, I have so much to live for. I'm just not sure I have the right to ask for another chance after all the lives I’ve destroyed.”

“All you can do is try. But I won’t give up on you. Ever.”

Regina takes the hand that’s over her heart and lifts it to her cheek, covering Emma’s other hand, and then slowly, she pulls Emma towards her and presses her lips to Emma’s. Soft and unimaginably tender; she tastes salt and knows she’s crying.

The kiss turns into a hug and then Emma is holding her as she cries onto her Sheriff’s shoulder.

“I won’t,” Emma promises again. "Ever. I won't."

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Henry asks, approaching quickly. “Are you guys all right?”

“We’re good, Kid,” Emma assures him. “We're just getting some pent-up emotion out.”

“Can I help?”

Abruptly, Regina turns away from Emma, and towards Henry, hugging him. “You always help. Without you, there wouldn’t be a me. You loving me is all the help I need.”

“You’re my mom,” he states, like it’s so easy and obvious.

But it hadn’t been for so long, and those are memories which she can never quite forget.

And fear she can never quite let go of.

Because what if one day, he truly grasps what she was and stops loving her because of it?

It’s a dark and desperate rabbit-hole her mind falls down when she starts worrying about things such as that, the bottom of it cold and empty. A future of nothing but despair and loneliness.

Or death.

These desperate thoughts are enough to make her damaged heart stand to pound, gray immediately seeping in from the sides of her vision as searing pain streaks across her chest.

Henry says, “I believe in you.”

And then down, down, _down_ , she goes.

* * *

Her eyes open, and she’s not entirely sure what she’d been expecting to see, but a staggeringly beautiful auburn-haired woman with gray eyes hadn’t been it. “Welcome, Regina,” she says.

“Where am I?” Regina asks, pushing herself up into the sitting position. When she looks around, what she sees is nothing but icy blue water and lavender colored steam surrounding her. The floor beneath her is soft and almost mushy, but impossible to describe or define beyond that. "Where are the others? Henry? Emma? What have -"

“Be at ease. They are safe and unharmed. And you are where you wanted to be. I heard the request of your heart for an audience."

“You’re one of the Guardians."

“The people of this land call me Serena, but I have gone by many names in my time. All you need understand, though, is that my only responsibility is to protect nature and its balance. Magic is part of that balance, and so, by extension, I am responsible for it as well. You’re here to see me because you caused great harm to that balance, and now your heart is dying."

“Yes."

“But you’re also here because for a time now, you have sought to repair the damage you caused and you have shown the ability to heal instead of harm. You intrigue me, Regina, former Queen of the Enchanted Forest. Most sentient life forms have both light and dark within them, but usually once a choice is made, their path is set and their balance is forever disrupted. You are different. Seldom in my time have I encountered anyone like you; one who has done so much evil and yet is still capable of so much good." 

Serena twirls her hand, then and the room changes, placing them in the middle of Regina’s vault in the middle of Storybrooke. When Regina looks down at herself, she sees that she’s not wearing the riding pants and vest she had been, but rather one of her black ribbed jackets. A look in the mirror and she sees her own face, but with the intensity of the Queen in her eyes.

“You walk the line between despair and hope,” Serena notes, and it starts a pattern Regina will rapidly grow accustomed to; Serena speaks in statements, not questions. Certain, but curious.

“Every day. Every moment,” Regina concedes.

“There was a time when all you were was despair.”

“And fury,” Regina adds. "I was so angry all the time. Sometimes, I still am."

The room shifts and this time Regina is watching her past as if its on screen around her. She sees that they're in the middle of the woods and the Queen is ordering her soldiers to murder a village for not surrendering Snow White, ordering them to show no mercy.

“You destroyed countless lives and perverted the balance of magic and nature in the name of vengeance, anger and hatred. You shattered the wall between realms and realities with the darkest of magics. You murdered your father and tore a hole open in your own soul.”

The room becomes Snow’s castle, right as the curse is cast, glass falling from the ceiling.

“I did all of those things and more,” Regina confesses. "I was a monster."

“And yet, in the midst of all that despair, you found hope.”

“I found Henry.”

The room changes and Regina sees herself holding infant Henry in her arms. The scene holds, allowing Regina to indulge in seeing her son as a bouncing baby boy again.

“And then the girl came into your life.”

“I assume you mean Emma Swan. And she most certainly wasn’t hope when she first came into my life. I saw her as the very opposite of that.”

Again, the room shifts and now they’re in the hospital, and she’s watching her and Emma fight, Henry’s unconscious body just on the other side of the closet door.

“This is a terrible memory for you. An unforgivable one. It’s worse than remembering what you did as the Evil Queen. Worse than even your father."

“I almost cost my son his life. Because I was vengeful and scared. That is unforgivable.”

“But this choice changed you.”

“I hurt my child. Me. It forced me to really see what I’d become. I always told myself that I was misunderstood. I told myself that I wasn't the villain of the story; Snow was. But it was always me."

“You don't want to be that person."

“No. Never again. I killed my father because I couldn’t see what I’d become. But Henry...my son is my heart.”

“He is,” Serena acknowledges, and the room shifts again and then they’re standing in the middle of Storybrooke, a giant cloud of purple smoke rolling towards them. In front of them, another version of herself holds Emma’s hands. “This is when you let your heart go.”

“I realized the only thing that mattered was that he was happy.”

“You believed that possible without you.”

“He had her.”

“Your enemy.”

“By then we’d made peace with each other. I knew Emma would protect and love him as he deserved. And I owed her after what I took from her all those years ago. I owed him after what I’d almost done to him. Neither of those things are forgivable, but I tried.”

“It broke your heart to see him go.”

“It shattered it,” Regina corrects.

The room twists and then they’re in her castle in the Enchanted Forest watching as Regina prepares to put herself into an eternal sleep.

“This would have been an unimaginable torment for someone with your anguish. You would have suffered horrendously," Serena tells her.

“Losing him felt like something worse than that.”

“Losing the girl hurt as well. Your former enemy holds a piece of your heart.”

“She does,” Regina admits.

“She cares for you. Even loves you.”

“She’s an idiot, just like her parents.”

Serena laughs and it's a curiously twinkling sound, a reminder that the Guardian is a living being.

The room spins and then they’re in Granny’s Diner watching a family dinner. Snow, David, Emma, Henry and herself.

“They are your family. In spite of everything, you love them.”

“Inexplicably.”

“You would do anything for them. Even Snow White.”

“Anything,” Regina concurs.

"Including die for them."

"Yes."

"Dying is easy."

"Have you ever died? Because I have and there's nothing easy about it."

"Your previous death -" Serena turns her head as she absorbs what had happened. "In a world created by the misconduct of one of the Authors - haunts you."

"I'm not eager to repeat it. There was just...darkness behind the veil. Solitude and loneliness. Maybe I've earned that, but..."

"You've spent most of your life alone."

"I have."

“And what of your heart?” Ah, finally a true question.

Not that Regina has an easy answer to it. “What of it? It’s dying because of everything I did to corrupt it. I thought I’d made peace with my past, but that was a lie. There is no peace.”

“There is always peace to be grown if only we seed it.”

“Riddles,” Regina shoots back. “And riddles don’t save a dying heart.”

“Can a heart ever truly die?”

“I think I’ve destroyed enough of them to conclusively say yes.”

“But it can be healed.” Serena looks over at the table, watching as the family enjoys time together. Watching as Emma throws a fry at Regina and Regina tosses one back.

“But should it be allowed to?” Regina counters. “After all I’ve done?"

Serena tilts her head, curiously. “Are you arguing _against_ me allowing you to be healed?”

“No…just…trying to understand. I always thought I was hurting the most when I was unaware of what I had become, so certain that my anger and vengeance was justified. It’s worse like this.”

“Such is the nature of healing. The injury is seldom as emotionally and physically ruinous as the recovery.” The room shifts once more and they’re back in the chamber with the lavender steam and the water. Serena steps towards and places a hand flat on Regina’s chest, feeling the frantic pounding of Regina’s heart. “You’re afraid."

“I’m not good at having my life in other’s hands,” Regina allows, forcing herself to stay calm. “Every other time someone has had ownership of me, they’ve hurt me.”

“We will not,” Serena promises, and then her hand is dipping past skin and flesh and bone and finding Regina’s heart. She removes it easily, holding it up in the air for them to see. A damaged, dying organ covered in black, but surprisingly, streaked with red as well. “You are healing,” Serena observes. “Tell me, what do you want?”

“I want to live,” Regina insists.

“Because now you have reason to.”

“I want to be happy."

“And what if you were to find that happiness and is was taken away again?”

“It just was. You can look into my mind; you know I lost a lover not long ago."

“You let him have a chance to start over with his wife.”

“I owed him that after what I took from him.”

“You said the same about the girl. That you owed her.”

“I have a lot to make up for. I will always have a lot to make up for.”

“The girl, though, she’s more. You love her.”

“I love her,” Regina confirms.

“Would you let her go as you did the archer?”

“If it would make her happy, yes. Without hesitation.”

“But they’re different in your heart. She and the archer.”

“They’re different, yes. I loved him, but no matter what prophecy said, he was never really mine, and I wasn’t his. We were a connection which had its chance and lost it. I don’t know that Emma is mine, either, but as you said, she’s a piece of my heart. She’s truly my other half.”

“And yet you would still let her go.”

“As I said, I’m not sure she’s mine to let go, but even if she were, yes.”

“As penance or as hope?”

“Both. I guess I would hope she’d come back to me but if she didn’t…” Regina shrugs.

“One cannot live like this. Constantly inviting in despair in order to find happiness.”

“What choice do I have?

“Atonement instead of penance. Hope instead of suffering."

“You sound like Snow," Regina notes, wryly. "But really, what's the difference? Aren't both just trying to correct that which can't ever be corrected."

"Neither life or nature are so linear nor so absolute. Anything broken can be rebuilt. Anything damaged can be healed."

The room shifts again, and then they’re in the middle of the Enchanted Forest again, but this isn’t an image from Regina’s past. Rather, it’s the present and what she sees is the savagery of a sadistic madman who has crushed the people beneath his might and his muscle. The land is bruised and beaten, its people broken and suffering.

And yet they keep fighting back. In wonder, she watches as resistance fighters storm a group of soldiers, their tactics rough and undisciplined. They're desperately overmatched, and yet they keep going. Never surrendering.

“You know the man responsible for this suffering.”

“Frollo,” Regina grits out. 

The image changes again and they’re deep inside a dark, dank dungeon, torches serving as the only light in the room.

“As my war spun out of control, I made an alliance with his zealots to try to stop Snow’s rebellion. I miscalculated. Badly. While his men could be bribed, he could not. Frollo saw me as an abomination to his god. One that needed to be removed before he’d turn his attention to Snow. I was foolish and arrogant and so myopic. All I cared about was destroying Snow. All he cared about was destroying me.” 

She looks across, seeing a past version of herself hanging from chains, bloody lines down her back. “Witch,” the man - Frollo, himself - says as he crosses in front of her. His fingers curl under her jaw. She struggles and he strikes her, drawing blood. Lust in his eyes, he leans forward and licks it off of her.

“His intentions were clear,” Regina narrates. “For a man who hates what I am, he was obsessed with possessing me and then destroying me. But his zeal to have me punished ruined his plan; I was able to kill the men he sent to beat me into submission. I escaped and sent my army after him and his. He ran. They died." Years ago, she would have said these words with a vicious sneer of defiant triumph. Now, she just feels coldly aware of every drop of blood her hands have helped to spill.

“He is here now, ruling over your former land over, destroying it anew," Serene explains.

“What would you have me do about it?”

They’re back in the lavender steam room again. Serena walks towards her, Regina’s heart still in her hand. “Correct the balance. Protect the land. Allow her wounds - and yours - to heal.”

“After all of this, you want me to shed more blood?" Regina asks in disbelief.

“No, we want you to restore the balance. Great evil must always be met with great good.”

“I might be the wrong person for that.”

“You are not.” Serena turns her heart over, showing her the pulsating red of her heart. “By your nature, you have the ability to be the epitome of balance. Capable of both good and evil in extraordinary measure. Out of balance, you lose your way. Within it, you have the ability to heal that which you once harmed."

Regina's not entirely she believes that, but it seems a poor idea to argue with the ancient being who holds her life in her hands.

“And what of Emma?" she asks instead."Do you mean for her to be part of this...healing?"

“She is part of you. You will try to hide from that, but your time and energy are better exhausted elsewhere."

Weary of answers which aren't actually answers, Regina bluntly asks, “If I do this, will you heal my heart?”

“Find your mission, and you will heal your own heart.”

"I thought I was supposed to seek atonement?"

"Atonement is the mission."

“Okay, fine," Regina agrees, accepting that much of this encounter isn't going to ever make sense to her. "But there’s only one problem. I can barely walk ten feet without collapsing. At this rate, I won’t make two days from now before my heart gives out.”

“Your heart will survive until you have you completed your mission, whether in life or death.”

"Does it matter which to you?" Regina asks curiously.

"I am a Guardian of balance and nature. Life and death are merely pieces of their whole. Balance is what matters. You will understand that in time."

"So many riddles. What of my magic?”

“Your magic will answer your call as always but mind its cries and warnings. Should you fall back into the darkness, there will be no saving you from it. Your life is your own, Regina Mills.”

Regina’s not entirely sure she believes that, but she recognizes the deal for what it is: a chance.

“I accept your terms,” Regina declares, head up, eyes up.

Serena offers a beatific smile. “So shall it be.”

The room explodes into a bright light, then, lavender floating behind her eyelids.

When she comes to, she’s on the ground outside the temple, Emma over her.

“Regina, please, wake up. Please.” She sounds like she’s been crying.

She feels Henry’s hand in hers, squeezing tight. Refusing to let go.

Emma says again, “Please. Please, don’t go. _Please_.”

Opening her eyes slowly, Regina murmurs, “I’m still here, Emma. I’m still here.”


	4. 4.

“What do you mean you already met the Guardian?” Emma demands, hands on her hips. Still wearing her hoodie atop leather riding pants, she presents a rather comical and yet oddly striking visual and Regina allows herself to take it in for perhaps a few seconds longer than is strictly needed.

Sitting up gingerly, Regina attempts to stand to join Emma, but wobbles on the way up. Not because she’s hurt or weak – she actually feels pretty damned good right about now – but because her legs had fallen asleep while she’d been unconscious on the rocks, and now the blood is pumping again.

Because her heart still is too.

“I got you,” Henry tells her, his arm once again sweeping around her middle, his youthful strength a backstop for her. When Regina looks over again, she sees that Emma’s only a few feet away, likely having come closer again when the Queen had looked like she’d been about to fall. Not too far off, Granny is watching all of this unfold with her typical wary and slightly bemused curiosity.

“Regina,” Emma prompts. “What happened between you and the Guardian?"

“A lot. And I think that might be an understatement.” She shakes her head, still not quite believing that she’s made it this far. “When I passed out, the Guardian known as Serena came to see me. Apparently, she heard my request without me having to say it." Instinctively, Regina’s hand settles over her heart, feeling the steadiness of her heartbeat. Her proof of life.

“Did she heal you?” Henry asks, excitement in his tone.

“Not exactly. Or rather, not completely.” She frowns, trying to figure out how to say what she needs to say. How to position it so they best understand the road she’s now on. How to make them understand that in the space of a few minutes, her whole purpose in life had altered and now is completely altered. “She gave me the audience as requested, and then…a chance for atonement.” That’s a rather short version of the overall, but trying to explain the spiritual trial she’d just undergone seems impossible. “Which,” Regina continues. “Is almost more than I could have ever hoped for, but that chance comes with a price."

"What kind of price?" Emma snaps, looking like she's readying herself to punch someone.

"Emma, it's all right. It's...I won’t be able to go home. At least not any time soon.”

“Why not?” Emma pushes. She can tell that there’s something different about the Queen. A quick physical inspection (and she can tell by Regina’s slight smirk that she notices the glance over and is perhaps amused) indicates that there’s no new injuries to be concerned about. But something is different, off. Regina has always been an emotional enigma, so often undone by the discordance and thus complexity of her thoughts. Right now, there’s something unsettling about the energy around Regina. Something thoughtful and curiously peaceful, but paradoxically also turbulent and atypically messy.

Regina doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, she turns away from the group and looks over the mesa and down onto the town road well below, a road upon which the horrors of Frollo’s men can still plainly be seen, the row of piked heads a macabre blight upon the otherwise beautiful land. “I caused pain like that,” Regina whispers, and she hates with every inch of her body and soul that her son is around to hear this. But he has to understanding what’s happening and why.

Emma steps closer to her. Her immediate instinct is to try to make Regina feel better, to try to calm the tremendous guilt raging through her. The rest of her, though, refuses such lies and knows that Regina wouldn’t actually take comfort from them, anyway. They’re here specifically because Regina had chosen to face her past and her darkness and denying that reality does her no good.

It’s not what Regina wants from her, anyhow.

So instead, Emma hesitantly asks, “And the Guardian wants you to...atone?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Regina turns to face her. “By ending this war. By stopping a monster who is doing what I once did.”

Granny chuckles darkly. “They don’t ask much, do they?”

As understated as always.

“Okay, I feel like I’m missing something here,” Emma states. “The Guardians want you to single-handedly end a war between Frollo and his paid thugs and…a ragtag bunch of rebels?”

“No, I think they want me to join that ragtag rebellion and help them drive Frollo out. Maybe they want me to lead, I don’t know. That part wasn’t clear and I’m not sure I’d know how to lead a rebellion, anyway.” She smiles wryly at Emma. “That’s more your thing, Swan.”

“On occasion,” Emma allows. “So, what’s the overall point? Defeating Frollo?”

“No. Bringing peace to the Enchanted Forest. Stopping that deranged zealot is just a means to that end,” Regina says, making all of this like it’s so simple and obvious, and not at all crazy sounding.

Which, of course, to Emma, crazy doesn’t begin to describe what she's hearing.

“Right, of course.” Emma rubs her hands over her eyes. “Okay, let’s step back a few steps. Less than an hour ago, your heart was failing, and you could barely stand. We were terrified you wouldn’t survive the night. And now you’re planning to go off and join a rebellion?”

“It sounds ludicrous when you say it like that.”

“Yes, it does,” Emma confirms, seeming relieved that Regina understands that.

“But yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Seeing Emma about to protest again, Regina reaches out, then, and takes Emma’s hand, pulling it up to her chest to join the hand that has been resting over her heart. She can’t quite stop herself from a satisfied smirk when she sees the way Emma’s breath hitches as their now interwoven fingers settle over the steady thump of Regina’s heart. “My heart is wounded, but for the moment, it’s strong enough for _me_ to be strong. If I fail, well it doesn’t matter.”

“Regina –”

“I don’t want to die, Emma,” Regina tells her, the calm flowing away from her as she puts her cards (though not quite all of them) on the table. “But I’m not entirely sure I have the right to be alive after all I’ve done. All of you wanted me to face what I’d become and seek redemption, and I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard.”

“You’ve succeeded,” Henry insists.

“I’m not sure if that's even possible considering all the terrible things I’ve done. Because the truth is –” she looks over at Henry, eyes flickering closed as she accepts that she’s about to say more to him about her state of mind than she ever has wanted to before – “The more aware I’ve become, the less capable I am of dealing with what I did.” She gestures back down towards the horror-filled road. “I did that and I tore a hole in so many lives. And in my own. Maybe there shouldn't be redemption for that. Ever. But...perhaps, atonement is possible."

Emma doesn’t say anything, just feels the steady beat of Regina’s heart.

“Mom, what does atonement mean?” Henry asks. “I mean I know what the word means. But what does it mean for you? What do they expect of you besides defeating Frollo?”

“If you’re asking me if I think it means sacrificing my life, no I don’t believe that’s the only option. I think it means that instead of destroying life, I use the gifts that nature gave me to protect life. I try to use them for good instead of evil. But...wars can take a very long time, Henry. Potentially years. I can’t ask any of you to stay for that. You should all go home.” The words burn to say, the thought of losing Henry and Emma all over again beyond devastating to her. She’d barely survived her last trip to the Enchanted Forest without them and part of her isn't sure she can do it again. 

Thankfully, she’s jumping the gun a bit. “In case you forget,” Emma reminds her, “We don’t have a way home yet. That was always part two of our plan. After we got your heart healed.”

“Which by my calculations,” Granny notes, “Means we’re at 25% of the plan.”

“Give or take,” Regina sighs as she lets go of Emma’s hand and steps away. “But –”

“We’re staying,” Henry cuts in. “Your fight is our fight.”

“No,” Regina contests, her tone almost frantic. “Henry, no. I don’t want you in the middle of this. You’re a child. _My_ child.”

“And you’re _my_ mother,” he defiantly declares. “And I’m not leaving.”

“Emma,” Regina appeals.

“We can’t leave,” Emma repeats. “And even if we could, we wouldn’t. We started this journey knowing that we could be stranded her for a while. As a family. Nothing has changed.”

“Besides the fact I’m about to walk into a rebel camp and ask to join them in a war?”

“Well, yes, that’s certainly a twist,” Granny allows.

Regina throws her a look, clearly not amused. “You’re not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to help. And you’re wasting time arguing with them. They’re not leaving you.”

“Since you seem to have all the answers, what would you have me to do, Eugenia?”

Granny shrugs, as ever unintimidated. “Exactly what you’re doing. Minus the trying to convince them not to join you part. Accept that we’re all coming with you and tell us where we’re going.”

“West. The group we saved last night was headed that way. Which suggests to me that their larger camp is out that way. We need to find them and go from there.”

“They’ll be suspicious,” Henry says, matter-of-factly. “Rebellions are always suspicious of new members.” When the others look at him in surprise, he offers, “I read a lot.”

“He’s right,” Regina agrees. “I’m hoping our rescue of one of their leaders a few nights ago will convince them of our intentions. But they know who I am so…” she trails off.

“Let’s hope for the best,” Emma suggests, earning her a raised eyebrow from the Queen.

“When did you become the optimist?”

“When you needed one.”

“Oh,” Regina says simply, and then rapidly turns away. Swallowing against emotion. Hand against her heart again. Fingers pressing inwards. Suddenly desperately needing to verify that she’s worth such faith. Her heart is in her hand, then, pulsing frantically against the warmth of her palm.

“Regina!” Emma surges towards her, grabbing her shoulders and turning her. “Don’t.”

“I’m not,” Regina replies, voice quiet and somber, eyes on the brilliant streaks of red. “I just wanted to be sure that…that what I saw was real and I’m not the evil monster I once was.”

“You don’t need to hurt yourself to know that. Put it back.”

“I’m okay.”

“It belongs inside of you. _Please_.”

Regina looks up at her. “What are you afraid of?”

“That you’re not afraid right now.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No,” Henry says as he approaches. “We’re supposed to feel, Mom.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not…I just wanted to look at it.”

“And now that you have? What do you see?” Emma presses. She reaches forward and once again touches Regina’s hands and there’s a curious zap of energy – and even emotion which really shouldn’t be possible for Regina with her heart outside of her chest – as Emma’s fingers close over her heart. “Because what I see is someone who is fighting through their pain.”

“Isn’t that the story of my life?”

“Mine, too,” Emma tells her and then lifts their hands together and presses it against Regina’s chest. “You want to know that you’re healing. That you’re about to put all of us this through this battle for something that has meaning. But here’s the thing, Regina: it doesn’t matter to me what color your heart is.” She looks over at Henry, and then at Granny, even if the older woman is mostly an observer to this intimacy of this moment, her keen eyes indicate an understanding and even empathy for the situation. She gestures to Henry. “It doesn’t matter to him what color it is, either. All that matters to us is you. You have meaning to us. We are going with you and we will fight with you because that’s where we’re supposed to be.” With her other hand, she removes Regina’s and then with the one holding the Queen’s heart, she pushes inwards, sinking down into the strange magic vortex beneath muscle and bone. “We’ll be with you every step of the way because that’s where we want to be. With _you_.”

Regina exhales as her heart snaps back into a place, all of her emotions hitting her all at once.

"Better?" Emma asks.

“I want to live,” is all Regina says again.

“Then I guess we’d better get moving,” Granny states coming from the side. Her tone is gruff and no-nonsense, but there’s a softness in her eyes. Informed brutally by her history of dealing with her own guilt and grief and knowing how hard it was for Red to handle all that she felt over the accidental murder of her lover, she recognizes the harsh fight to establish self-worth.

Self-loathing has always been easier.

“I can smell a storm coming in and I’m sure we’d prefer not to get caught in it,” Granny continues. And while that’s certainly true – she can smell the tang of rain in the air, thankfully covering up the terrible scent of death from far below – getting them going again is more about trying to get Regina out of her mind. Self-awareness can be a terrible, terrible thing at times.

And the Queen? Well, this quest - now for atonement, apparently - is forcing her to truly face her fall into darkness and all the horror that had surrounded her collapse. Horror, which Granny is intimately aware of thanks to her front row seat next to Snow during the worst of the Evil Queen’s reign. But this woman in front of her now isn’t that Evil Queen, and no matter what Regina thinks or doesn’t think of herself (and it’s plain to Granny that there’s very little positivity in how the Queen perceives herself, her self-loathing different than it once was but still just as toxic as its mingles with corrosive guilt), there’s little chance of her ever falling back into that degree of mental illness and damnation. Mostly, because this time around, she has people who love her (dearly). That clear affection and love for (and from) her is something she hadn’t had during her Evil Queen days, despite Snow’s resilient if troubled love for her former stepmother. Regina hadn’t been able to accept it back then, as she was being driven mad by grief, anger, manipulation, corrosive magic and bitter heartbreak. Now, she has not only Snow and David, but more importantly, Henry and Emma.

Family makes all the difference, Granny muses, and wonders when she will find her Red.

That’s why she’s here, after all.

To find and return to her own family.

Movement from her side draws her attention to how the others are moving towards the horses, Regina mounting Black Winter with far more athletic grace and ease than previously.

“Let’s try to get back to the forest, at least, before the rain comes in,” Regina suggests. Then to Henry and Emma, a slight wry smile on her lips. “The trees will help give us cover.”

“I knew that,” Emma insists.

“No, you didn’t,” Henry laughs.

“Shh.”

“Don’t tell Henry to shh,” Regina lightly scolds, pulling Black Winter’s reins and steering him towards the road that lead them off the mesa.

“Mama’s boy,” Emma grumbles.

“Little Prince,” Henry counters.

“Mount up,” Granny orders, though she’s grinning a little.

Because what they’ve all been through already has been terrible, and yet there’s still room for mirth. It’s something Snow had understood so well during the war with Regina. People can’t survive by living in the darkness all the time. Snow had insisted on frivolous diversions, if for no other reason than to remind everyone of what they were fighting for. Chances are, they will all need these more joyful reminders of happier times far sooner than they might hope for.

"All set, Eugenia?" Regina questions, noticing the distraction of drifting thoughts. Off Granny's nod, Regina looks at the others and says, "Let's ride."

* * *

The rain starts about an hour later, when they’re still a fair distance from the forest. Their options are to keep going and worry about warming up and drying up once they’ve gotten into the trees or to stop at the decimated village. It’s an easy decision, really – going back and sleeping in the home and beds of the massacred isn’t something any of them wants to do.

Especially Regina.

Oh, she stays quiet during the discussion, unwilling to speak to her discomfort and if Emma had to guess, probably wary about being judged if she were to say anything, but it’s clear how anxious she is. When the decision is made to keep going, she doesn’t say a word in response.

And, in fact, doesn’t speak for quite a long while after that.

Until Emma comes up beside her, the horses slowing as the ground grows muddier beneath the assault of the rain. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“I will be glad to get out of these clothes,” Regina admits.

Emma pats her saddlebag. “Thank God for waterproof, right?”

“Indeed.”

“But I wasn’t asking about your clothes. I was asking about you,” Emma clarifies. “Talk to me. And don’t ask what about – “ she gives Regina a pointed look when she sees Regina roll her eyes, annoyed by Emma’s understanding of her. “Talk to me about what’s going through your head right now.”

“Many things.”

“Such as…”

“You’re going to keep pushing, aren’t you?”

“You act like you just met me,” Emma replies, offering her an impish grin.

“Will you believe me if I tell you I’m fine?” Regina queries, glancing once over her shoulder to see how Henry is faring. He’s riding next to Granny, close enough that, if needed, the older woman can reach out to assist him if his horse gets edgy. She can see they’re talking, occasionally sharing a laugh. As always, a sight which brings tremendous joy to her heart.

“No,” Emma shrugs. “So, how about the truth instead.”

“I always tell you the truth,” Regina replies indignantly.

“Now you’re acting like _I_ just met you.”

“No,” Regina allows, then looks away again, over towards the trees, their impressive, if slightly spooky in the dark, limbs dripping water. Still looking away, she says softly, her voice just barely audible, “I am grateful for this…chance. But I’ve had so many other chances and destroyed them all before. I don’t…I don’t know if I trust myself not to fall into the darkness again.”

“I won’t let you.”

Regina turns back to look at her, studying the absolute sincerity in the Sheriff’s blue-green eyes. “It’s not your job to babysit me. That’s not what…that’s not what I want from you.”

Emma’s eyebrow lifts. “What do you want from me?”

“Your friendship.”

“You’ve got it.”

“And your faith.”

“Got that, too.”

Regina wants to ask “why” – it’s the one part of her acceptance by the Charming family that she’s never quite understood. Why have they chosen to forgive her? To have faith in her? To care for - and even possibly love - her as much as they do. As much as Emma does. She desperately wants to ask this question, but then pushes it for now; perhaps because she’s afraid that what she’ll be told will be a superficial platitude, and thus also flimsy and breakable.

She’s not sure if that’s something her heart can cope with so it's best to focus on what she can control and make sense of.

“But what I don’t want,” Regina pushes on, a hint of determination and steel in her voice. “Is you feeling like it’s your job to keep me from…becoming what I was.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Emma clarifies. “Only you can do that. For what it’s worth, though: I don’t believe that you’re capable of becoming the Evil Queen again. I didn’t know that part of you like my mother did, but I know enough to know that you’re not her, anymore. I also know that you’re constantly at war with yourself. You’ve been through a lot in your life –”

“So, have you and you didn’t become…what I was.”

“We had different realities, Regina. I don’t think anyone can truly say who or what they would have become if they’d been forced to walk in someone else’s shoes. In the shoes I had, I got dealt a pretty fucked hand and made it worse with the choices I made. I became a thief who got pregnant as a teenager and then did everything she could to shut out the world until Henry showed up. I get the nice heroic story of being the Savior, but I was a hopeless, frustrated, angry at the world, emotionally repressed loner who trusted no one and believed in nothing. And no one gave a damn about me until I was the person who could save them. That first year in Storybrooke, I was stuck constantly between a thousand emotions. And most of them were telling me that I needed to get in my car and keep driving until I forgot about Storybrooke.”

“You stayed for Henry.”

“And for you.”

“Me?”

“You pissed me off,” Emma reminds her. “I couldn’t walk away from you and let you win.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

“I won, didn’t I?”

“And what is it exactly that you think you won, Miss Swan?” Regina asks, eyes dancing.

“If I answer that, you might throw a fireball at me.”

Regina wrinkles her nose. “You Charmings and your persistent, perverse faith in hope.”

“That wasn't the word I meant," Emma teases. Then, growing serious, "As far as hope, you know I've struggled to find that, too. I don't have faith in it like my parents do, but...it's real."

“It can be or it can be false,” Regina contests. "And then what do you have? Another bitter life lesson."

“Maybe, but maybe some of those life lessons take us to somewhere unexpected. Like here."

"Here isn't anywhere you should be happy to be."

"Too bad. I am. And I'll be with you every step of the way. Not to stop you from falling into your old ways, but because I want to be there if you want me there. Just like I know you’d be there for me.”

Regina looks over at Emma, studies her thoughtfully, then says softly, “Emma, we dance around a lot of things and always have. We don’t talk about the hundreds of things we should –”

“I don’t regret it,” Emma assures her. “If you mean...the kiss."

“I do, and I don’t regret it, either. And I’ll never not want you with me. I just hope –” Regina chuckles darkly at her own use of the word. “That you never come to regret it, either.”

And with that said, she pushes her horse to move and speed up, moving away from Emma.

Giving them both space to absorb the last few minutes, hours, days and years.

A lifetime lived in the blink of a storybook. A new one opening in front of them.

Emma sighs, runs her hand through her wet hair and then laughs.

Because, really, what else is there to do besides laugh at the insanity that is their lives. Laugh and keep moving and hoping.

She supposes she really is a Charming.

Perversely, persistently hopeful.

It’s taken her time to realize it, but there are worse things.

* * *

About an hour later, they finally make camp deep in the middle of the trees, their branches above them holding most of the water off their individual pop-up tents. Even so, the rain that gets through creates a melody for them to sleep to. That is, if any of them were sleeping. Instead, Regina is on her bedroll, stripped down to fresh and thankfully dry long-john type undergarments, a blanket wrapped around her from the hip down. She’s chilly, of course, but finds that the cold allows her a bit of clarity that perhaps coziness might not have afforded her.

A thousand things working their way through her mind – from getting ready to go from a tyrant Queen to a revolutionary, to Henry’s presence here, which sets her heart ill at ease, to her quickly evolving relationship with Emma Swan. Add to that, worries about Storybrooke and the health of the little town that she’d created out of hate but then learned how to love. Oh, she knows that Snow and David will do everything they can to protect Storybrooke but the one consistently undermining part of their rule and the reason she had been able to eventually defeat them as the Evil Queen (though ironically, never as Regina) is that they struggle with making the hard and painful choices of leadership. The ones which no matter how hard you try to avoid, no matter how hard you try to find a way to split the baby and save everyone, you simply can’t. Admittedly, the Queen had gone the entirely opposite way and made a few too many “easy” choices, but early in her reign after the King’s death, she had tried to be better than that. In the beginning, her goal had been to gain their respect and then hopefully, eventually, their love. She had tried to care and if the people hadn’t been so opposed to her, maybe they would’ve even noticed some of her diplomatic and commerce related success. When they had refused, instead focusing on their deep derision for her, she had decided to replace respect with fear.

Everything had gone to hell in a hand basket after that.

On the flip side, Snow, who had been much respected as a steel-eyed but still unrelentingly optimistic insurgent, had been greatly loved as a Queen, but never respected. She hadn’t known how to muscle her way through trade deals, always erring on the side of friendly relationships and compromise and valuing the opinions of too many different people. Her goal had always been to give her citizens an everlasting and perpetual peace, and the assumption had been that her ability to lead the rebels to their win had meant that she would be the one to do that. But as it turns out, leading isn’t the same as governing and governing will always require hard choices.

Such as executing your enemy when you have the chance to.

Not that Regina isn’t thankful, considering everything, but it’d been a terrible choice, and Snow’s people had paid an even more terrible price for it.

Sometimes, the right thing is the hardest thing. It’s a lesson that she as the Queen had refused to learn, insisting instead on bulldozing over everything and everyone to get to her happiness.

A happiness that the Queen had never found. Well, until Storybrooke, but that just brings the whole issue right back around to where it had started.

Regina takes a breath, hand over her beating heart, fingers drumming against it. She wonders about the line between good and bad, right and wrong, compassion and foolishness. She thinks about the balance between strong and vulnerable, dark and light and nature itself. And perhaps, even more importantly, the balance within her own nature.

The belief has always been that her younger self would have ended up being a great hero, and perhaps that’s true if she’d been forced into it, but back when that girl had existed, she hadn’t wanted that. She had been a kind-hearted teenager with bright eyes who, in spite of life, had only wanted to live a quiet, ordinary life with the man she had loved and a dozen babies.

Now, although Henry is inarguably the love of Regina’s life, such a life seems trite and childish.

Which, she supposes, brings her to wondering who she is now.

No longer capable of childish fantasies of things such as happily ever after, but until her heart had started collapsing, she thinks she had been getting to a place of hoping for a future of joy, companionship and perhaps, love as well.

 _Perhaps_.

Another groan and then Regina turns herself into the raised part of her bedroll.

Enough, she thinks.

Because thinking about love again – especially right now – is as childish as those early girlish daydreams had been. No, right now she needs to focus on saving her heart, not exposing it.

She needs to focus on protecting it from being hurt worse while she tries to heal it. Which means she also needs to protect those who could be hurt by it.

Because Emma might have faith in her, but her own faith in herself is severely lacking.

Images of heads lining the road, and bodies burnt in the middle of the streets. Horrors from her own wicked past violent within her troubled mind.

So come morning, she decides, she will depart on her own.

Even if it breaks her heart to do so.

Isn’t that the hard thing? Isn’t the hard thing the right thing?

She thinks so.

She hopes so.

* * *

  
“Hey,” she hears, just as her hand touches Black Winter’s saddlebag. Involuntarily, she groans, because, of course. She thinks maybe she won’t turn, maybe she’ll just ignore Emma.

But when has that ever actually worked?

“Swan,” she deadpans.

“Where you off to?” Emma queries, her voice almost sounding conversational.

“Morning ride.”

“With full packed gear?”

“I like to be prepared.”

“Mm hmm. Were you at least going to leave us a note or were you just planning to disappear completely?” Emma asks, and though her tone continues to sound almost friendly, Regina knows her well enough to be able to pick up on the undercurrent of angry that’s there.

“Emma –”

“No, dammit, no. After we came over here with you –”

“I never wanted that."

Emma ignores that. “After what we shared at the top of the hill –”

“You can do better,” Regina insists. “So much better, and you must know that.”

“I get to make that call,” Emma snaps back.

"You're angry."

"No shit. But you know what? Mostly, I'm hurt. I thought that after last night, we were on the same page on this. I thought you understood that we are in this together.”

"We are. It's just..." She trails off, rallying, herself to ask the question she dreads the answer to the most, “I need to understand _why_. Why you continue to support me."

“What does it matter?” Emma counters. “All that matters is that I’m here and your son is here and you were about to walk away from both of us so you could? What? Run off to join a bunch of people who mean nothing to you and hope to somehow survive? Or is not caring easier? Does it make it easier to go out in a blaze of glory when your only connection is to the mission?"

“No,” Regina protests. “That's...that's not what I'm trying to do. I told you the truth: I want to live. I just…I want to do the right thing, Emma. Even it’s the hard thing. I’ve spent most of my life doing the easy thing, and I want to be better than that. As for what it matters, it matters…because…because _you_ mean something to _me_. And maybe if I can walk away from you and from Henry, then maybe I can prove that I can be more than just the Evil Queen who only ever did what was best for her.”

“Prove to who? The Guardians? Did they say anything about…me or Henry?”

“No. Not like that.”

“So you’re jumping ahead and assuming that abandoning us –”

“It’s not –”

“It is,” Emma growls, and then starts counting to ten in her mind. Not necessarily to control her anger but rather her hurt. “You more than most know how many people have abandoned me. People I cared about. People who promised to be there forever for me. People who said they loved me.”

Regina’s eyes close, tears leaking from the edges of them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just have as much faith in me as I have in you.”

Eyes open again, Regina corrects, “Faith in you is not the problem.”

“But faith in yourself is, and you know I understand that. So let’s do this together. Let me be strong enough for you until you are."

“Emma, why?" It's strange to her that after so much time spent avoiding this question, she feels the desperate need to have it answered, but she does.

“Because maybe I have some things I need to atone for as well and helping you, maybe that gets me a little bit closer to that."

It's not at all the answer Regina had been expecting (and perhaps, at least to herself, she finds herself disappointed with it), and she thinks to continue arguing with her, to contest the absurd idea that Emma could have anything on the same level, but the urgent and pained look on Emma’s voice stills her tongue. Maybe it’s not about the nature of the sins, but rather the damage the sins do, both internally and externally. She lets out a breath. “All right,” she agrees.

Too wary and used to Regina’s sudden course reversals to quite take her words at face value, Emma presses, “Tell me, we’re done with this fight. Tell me, we can move on and do what we need to. We’ve always been stronger together. Tell me, that you understand that.”

“We’re done,” Regina assures her. “Just promise me if this goes bad, you’ll try not to hate me.”

“If is a good sign.”

“What?”

“You said ‘if’, not ‘when’, I think that’s progress.”

“You’re exhausting,” Regina grumbles, her affection unmistakable.

Emma hums. “But you love me, anyway.”

“I do,” Regina allows, growing serious. “So promise me, you won’t hate me.”

Now just as serious and just as aware that this is a very real and honest moment between them, Emma declares, “I promise you, we will get through this together.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Yes, it was,” Emma replies, a hand lifting up to touch Regina’s face. “Trust me.”

“More than I trust myself,” Regina confesses.

“Then trust me when I say, one day, you will see what I see in you.”

“I hope so.”

“There it is. The family way is rubbing off on you. My mother will be so pleased.”

Regina rolls her eyes, but lifts her hand and places it over Emma’s on her cheek, their combined touch so warm and electric. “Fine, you win. We’ll do this together.”


	5. 5.

Finding their rebel camp proves both easier and harder than they’d expected.

Easier in the most morbid and macabre of ways; the road out of the forest and to the west (leading back towards the canyon where Regina and Emma had saved Esmerelda and her group a few nights earlier) is now lined with bodies; a grisly warning from Frollo about the dangers of daring to try to stand against him. Based on the condition of the bodies, Granny suggests that they had come from the burnt-out town they’d seen two days before, as opposed to new ones, and Emma supposes that that’s a bit of a relief. As much as something like this can ever be a relief.

Relief quickly washes away to worry – worry about what they’re getting into and the sheer brutality of this fight. Worry for Regina, a former notorious royal who is planning to walk into a rebel camp all the while hoping that insurgents don’t try to kill her on sight just to make a point about the strength of their resistance. After all, they have no way of knowing that Regina loathes Frollo much as they do.

So it’s a risk and it's enough to make Emma’s anxiety mount as she runs through different ways to protect her family in her head. She knows Regina would be annoyed at such thoughts, but she also knows that Regina would pretty much expect them from her. And would be worrying in the same way if it was Emma in her spot instead of her. That’s kind of their shtick – taking turns protecting each other and their family.

But Emma has to admit, even if only internally, this is a whole new level of scary for her. She’s gone up against a lot of psychos during her days as a bail bondswoman, and she’d gone up against Regina when she’d been in Mayor Queen mode in Storybrooke, but this Frollo dude is a whole different level of evil and crazy. The problem is, it’s not particularly new for the Enchanted Forest. Long before Regina, there had been other murderous and brutal tyrants and after her, there had been Zelena and her winged monkeys and now Minister Frollo. It's been a long running shit-show here.

Emma groans, wishing again that Henry wasn’t here with them to see all of this. But he is, and what's done is done, and since there’s no way to get home for now, they’ll find a way, like always, to muddle through. To do that, though, they need to find the rebels, and that’s the hard part; the bodies from the town seem to be there as a message that indicates to Emma that contrary to Esmerelda’s words, the resistance cell hadn’t actually been going much further than the canyon and Frollo knows it.

“A Sherwood Forest like situation,” Henry, ever the reader and historian of Enchanted Forest history, suggests as the foursome holds on the edge of the canyon, considering their route through it.

“You might be on to something,” Emma concedes.

“Indeed,” Regina muses. “It would make sense. Robin and his Merry Men were rather notorious for being able to hide from Nottingham in plain sight, using the trees and the fear of the forest to shield them from soldiers for years. Everyone knew they were in there, but they could never flush them out.” She turns towards Granny. “Do you have much knowledge of this area? It was just outside my own.”

“Some, not much. I was a very young girl when I was around these parts.”

“It belonged to King George,” Henry says suddenly. Then, noticing all of the curious eyes on him, he elaborates with, “I’ve looked at all the maps Grandma had commissioned after the curse broke. So people could remember that world.”

“We could use those maps right about now,” Emma mutters.

“We could,” Regina acknowledges. “But we have you and Eugenia, instead.”

“What?”

“You found runners; Eugenia has acute werewolf senses. The two of you should be able to track the camp for us.”

“Spoken like the Queen you are,” Granny drolls.

“No, spoken like the Mayor I am,” Regina contests. “And part of being mayor means that I know what my best people are capable of. So for once, don’t fight me."

“Very well,” Granny agrees. “But I would strongly suggest you and Henry find a place to hide while the Sheriff and I go looking. We have no idea what kind of traps they have set up around here to protect themselves, and standing out in full view seems a great way to get bad attention from both sides.”

“She’s right,” Emma states. “We should leave our horses with you, too. Easier to be more nimble and agile on foot than it would be to worry about maneuvering horses through an unknown area.”

Regina lifts an eyebrow imperiously. “I do understand basic strategy, Miss Swan. Most people only remember the war I lost to Snow, but before then, I’d led several military campaigns. Successful campaigns. I’m not a neophyte to battle even if I am one to insurgency type tactics. We will take cover until you return, but be quick. I don’t think we want to be outside the canyon once night falls again.” She glances back towards the road, back to where all the massacred bodies are. "Something tells me we got lucky last time we were here. I'd prefer not to test that luck."

“We’ll be back before the Witching Hour,” Emma teases.

"Just go," Regina orders, clearly unamused. "And be careful."

"We will be," Emma promises, her voice softening as she takes in the anxiety clear in Regina's body language.

It’d be an easy lie to say that this...anxiety is a new part of their evolving relationship, but that’s exactly what it would be – a lie. The truth is that this concern for each other has existed for a long time.

It’s just gotten deeper, like a lot of the other emotions. 

“We’ll make a camp over there –” Regina points up the hill, towards the trees. The grove of trees here aren’t as dense as the two other patches they’d set up in, but they’ll do for a few hours. Or at least until nightfall. After that, assuming Frollo’s men tend to do their hunting at night, they will either need to move further into the canyon or deeper in the forest to avoid detection by the soldiers.

“Sounds good,” Granny concurs, then dismounts her horse, grabbing her crossbow. She pats the horse’s side, murmurs something to him, and then hands the reins to Henry.

Emma follow suit, dismounting, grabbing her gun and then walking her own stead over to Regina so that Regina can lead the horse up the hill. “Stop looking so worried,” she urges. “This part is easy.”

“You’re far too cynical to say something so idiotic,” Regina scolds.

“I am,” Emma admits with an impish grin. “But you’re not worried about me right now, are you? Mostly annoyed, right?”

“You really do enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?”

“A little.” She winks at Regina, then gives Henry a push in the shoulder. “See you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit,” he repeats, shaking his head in exasperation at the absurdity of his two mothers.

“Enough flirting, Sheriff,” Granny growls and then she’s stalking away, leading into the canyon.

“Aren’t you going to say that wasn’t flirting?” Regina asks.

“Nope.” And then Emma’s turning and racing after Granny, tiny rocks scattering under her feet.

Turning to Regina, Henry says, “She’s getting bolder.”

“Yes, she is. Very bold, indeed.”

“You like it.” So very matter-of-factly.

“Shh.”

“I thought no one was supposed to ‘shh’ me,” he counters.

Regina shakes her head in bewilderment. “You really are a mix of both of us, aren’t you?”

"Best of two houses."

Eyes bright with affection, she wraps her arm around him. “Come on, let’s go make camp.”

* * *

“You’re in trouble,” Granny observes, after about two hours of sneaking through the different twists and turns of the canyon. Rapidly, they’ve begun to understand exactly why the rebels have chosen this natural formation as their home. It seems endless for one, every twist and turn leading to more twists and turns. Which brings them to the second issue: this canyon is essentially a massive maze that quickly becomes confusing and disorientating. The idea of leaving markers seems an obvious one, but because of the sheer size of the canyon, you can end up marking a dead-end pointless path for hours before you realize that that’s exactly what it is. And before you know it, night is falling and temperatures are crashing and wolves are howling.

At least that’s how Granny tells it; Emma doesn’t particularly doubt her take.

“Me or us?” Emma counters. “Because unless you have a plan here, I think it’s definitely us.”

“Oh, that’s a different problem,” Granny acknowledges. “But I meant with the Queen.”

“There’s no problem with Regina so let’s focus on our problem finding the rebel camp.”

“We’ll find it,” Granny assures her.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I can smell them.”

Emma wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

Granny chuckles. “Not like that. We’re not that close to them. I mean I can smell their movements through here. They’re not heavily armored so their sweat bleeds more into the air than their clothes, which leaves behind traces that I can pick up if I really focus on it. I’m not as adept at tracking distinct scents as Red is, anymore, but there was a group that came through here today – maybe just a few hours ago – and I can still smell them.” She indicates towards a path to the left. “They went that way.”

“Impressive,” Emma notes.

“Being what I am – or was – has some advantages, I suppose,” Granny grumbles. She follows Emma down the dusty path she’d indicated to, waiting a few beats before saying, “Now, about the Queen.”

“What about her?”

“You know she thinks she’s going to die doing this, yes?”

“Of course. I know her pretty well. She means to fight and do everything she can to make up for what she did, but as much as she wants to live, she’s never actually believed that she can get redemption - or I guess we're calling it atonement now - without dying.”

“That’s a dangerous place to be,” Granny says unnecessarily.

“I know. Which makes it my job to convince her otherwise.”

“Is it your job or something you want to do because you –”

“Have feelings for her,” Emma finishes. Even a week ago, she would have deflected and insisted otherwise, but seeing Regina fall seriously ill and then recognizing the intense power and purpose of the journey they’re on had flipped something inside of her. Something that had reminded her of just how short and precious and completely not-guaranteed life really is. A look around the world they’re in – this place that should only exist on the pages of fairytale books, but is a reality that is so much darker than that – has helped her to grasp, and perhaps even accept, the absurdity of her life for the first time. She is Emma Swan, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, and she’s in love with the Evil Queen. That’s pretty insane, and yet right now, that seems the least insane thing going on. “I do have feelings for her,” Emma confirms. “And yeah, they’re pretty intense. But she’s also my best friend and the mother of my child, and my mom kind of adores her as well.”

Granny snorts, even now she still finds it hard to believe that after everything that had happened, the Evil Queen and Snow White had ended up friends and calling each other “family”.

“Which means,” Emma pushes on. “That it’s not just one reason why, but a lot of them. She’s still deep in her self-sacrificing, self-loathing, self-whatever-the-fuck bullshit she gets in her head when she’s like this. But I’m pretty good at shaking her out of her funks and helping her to see who she actually is.”

“Ever optimistic.”

“I am a Charming,” Emma says, because she doesn’t really know what else to say.

“You are,” Granny allows. “But you’re more than that, too. And for as much as you want to pull Regina out of her funk and help her to see who she is, you need to see who you are as well.”

“I know who I am,” Emma insists.

“We’ll see,” Granny answers, both dismissive and cryptic all at once. Before Emma can answer again, Granny points to the left, to an area that looks like a solid canyon wall. “Reason number two why they can’t be found; they’re using some type of trap door to get into their hide-out. Their smell is strong here; they’re around here.”

“Great,” Emma mutters, scowling in frustration. Because right in front of them looks like a dead end, and both walls to their sides look smooth and flat. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume this for one of the hundreds of other pointless paths this canyon has to offer. But, well maybe it’s time to put her tracker hat on and think about the times she’s found marks hidden in secret hide-outs.

This is just another mark, she tells herself, even if that’s not even remotely the truth. She’s not trying to find these people so she can turn them into the authorities; rather, she’s trying to find them so she can bring Regina to them and join their battle and –

Yeah, okay, it really does all sound absolutely batshit crazy.

“Something funny?” Granny asks, noticing Emma chuckling to herself.

“Only all of this.”

“Keep that ability to laugh, Sheriff; it’s likely to get a lot harder from here.”

“Has it ever been easy?,” Emma counters.

"Rarely. Look down there." Granny points to the dirt below them. Dirt that shows wetness from the storm the night before, but also a curiously different pattern. It’s too static, too stable and too neat to be normal in a canyon full of wind and motion.

Bending down, Emma knocks on the area around the dirt, putting her ear down to listen. What she hears instead is, “Hands up. Now.”

“Found your rebels,” Granny deadpans, and then turns around to face the dirt-smudged newcomers – three of them, their faces coated with dirt the same color as the walls of the canyon. Each of them is carrying a weapon – the young man at the front has a crossbow, its arrow pointed right at Granny’s chest.

Emma stands up and turns, hands up. “We come in peace,” she greets.

“Who are you and how did you find us?” The young man – clearly their field leader - demands, rather unimpressed by her declaration of well-meaning.

“My name is Emma Swan. That’s –”

“Eugenia Lucas,” Granny introduces.

“Lucas,” one of the others in the party murmurs. “Like Ruby?”

“Wait, you know Ruby?” Emma demands, taking a step forward, and getting the crossbow aimed at her for her trouble. Quickly, she steps back, hands back up. “We’re not enemies.”

“You’re not friends,” the young man snaps back.

“We might be. But it’s a long story and we need to see Esmerelda.”

His eyes narrow. “Minister Frollo sent you, didn't he?"

“No. Look, a couple nights ago, a friend of mine and I saved a party of yours at the mouth of this very canyon. If you ask her, she’ll remember us."

“I remember hearing about that,” the third member of their group says. “Es says they were almost trapped by Gabriel and then strangers came along and saved them.”

The field leader eyes them skeptically for what feels like an aggravatingly long eternity before finally relenting.

“Fine, I’ll take you to see Es. But you have to be blindfolded and hands tied. That’s the deal.”

“We accept,” Emma says immediately. Normally, she would have protested like crazy; because having her hands tied essentially means she’d be defenseless, their weapons likely turned over. But this is the deal, and this is the way in, and it’s hard to blame a group on the run for being suspicious of newcomers.

Nodding, he indicates towards his two companions to do the honors.

“Wait,” Granny calls out, frantic emotion in her voice. “Ruby Lucas, is she with all of you?”

“Maybe,” is all he will allow, and then the lights go out.

Apparently, blindfolding hadn’t been good enough.

* * *

“Ow,” Emma moans as her senses return to her, a blazing headache accompanying her consciousness. Feeling pain on the back of her skull, she tries to lift her hand to touch for it, but finds her wrists bound. Thankfully, there’s nothing across her eyes, and as her vision clears, she’s able to see that she’s in a very dark room, the only light coming from candles. They're just bright enough to let her see that the walls of the room are made of reinforced aged wood and tightly packed dirt and probably clay, somewhat clumsy in construction, but seemingly stable.

She hopes, anyway.

“Hello?” she calls out. “I was hoping to talk to someone, not need an aspirin.”

“Yes, well, you’re an idiot, Emma Swan,” she hears, instead. Turning, she looks up and into the familiar eyes of Ruby Lucas. Who is shaking her head at her. “A real fucking idiot.”

“I’ve been called that a time or two,” Emma shrugs.

“You know, I haven’t always agreed with Regina on a lot, but she’s right about that much.”

“I never said Regina was the one who called me it.”

That earns her a withering look.

“Right. Hey, Ruby, any chance you can untie me? My hands and legs are cramping, and I’m pretty sure there’s an insane welt on the back of my head.”

“I go by Red here,” the former waitress explains. “They know who I was, but back here, I get to be me again. Fully. So Red it is. As for your head –” she frowns and reaches around to the back of her. “Yeah, they got you pretty good, didn’t they? Damn.” 

“Is that always how your scouts greet people?”

“It’s either that or they end up as a head on the road,” Red says dourly.

“Touché,” Emma concedes. “But, you know I’m no threat. Right?"

“Of course. And Granny has been explaining everything to us.”

“So then why am I still tied up?"

“Because you’re an idiot and I wanted to tell you that without you being able to stop me.” She reaches down, and using her knife, cuts Emma’s binds away. “Shake them out, blood will come back.”

“Yeah,” Emma whimpers, feeling the discomfort of doing exactly that. Then, “Wait, why am I an idiot, exactly?”

“Where do I start? Oh yeah, your dumbass self went and fell in love with the Queen.”

“Oh, right, that.”

“I mean, I’m not surprised. You two were always hot and horny for each other.”

“We were not.”

“Emma,” Red scolds, before tapping her nose. “Even when I didn’t know who I was and couldn’t figure out why my sense of smell was so acute, I could feel the energy between you and Regina. It was like walking through a field of pheromones. Seemed to me like you two could never figure out if you wanted to kill each other or screw each other stupid. To be honest, I always thought it was a shame that you chose the first one. If I'd been in your place, I most certainly would have hit the sheets with her. And then maybe tried to kill her. Who knows."

"Thanks for that," Emma drawls. "Okay, so I'm an idiot -"

“Oh, I’m not done. I want to know everything. I knew you two wanted to do it, but when did it become emotional?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think we just kind of…got here.”

“And now you’re willing to fight a war against a deranged sociopath to help save a reformed psychopath. That’s bent for even our lives.” She offers Emma a hand to help her stand up.

“It’s not just for her,” Emma argues. “She needs this so she can atone for what she did as the Evil Queen, and I want to be here for her, but I need this for myself, too. Everyone in Storybrooke wants to see me as their great and wonderful Savior, but the truth is, all I did was kiss my son to accomplish my destiny. Behind all that, though, well, I have debts to pay, too. Maybe not like hers –”

“Or mine,” Red says quietly.

“But debts are still debts. And if I can help you stop this prick, then that’s what I want to do.”

“You always did hate a bully,” Red notes. Then shakes her in bemusement.

“She’s not like that, anymore,” Emma promises.

“I believe you. Come on, let’s go talk to Es. And maybe get you something for that welt."

“Hey, Red,” Emma says, before they’ve gotten more than a step. “I’ve really missed you.”

Red grins at that, then turns and hugs Emma tight. “I’ve missed you, too, you giant lovesick idiot.”

* * *

“Mom?” Henry asks, coming up behind her. She’s standing on the very edge of the treeline, rubbing her hands against the rapidly encroaching chill of the night. The sun set a few hours ago, and she really should have relocated them but in a failure of her own leadership strength (she thinks), she hadn't been able to move them away from their camp, to ensure that Emma and Granny could easily find them.

She really hates feeling helpless. 

“Mom,” Henry says again. “It’s going to be okay.”

She turns to look at him and tries to force a smile. “I know.”

“You’re scared.”

“I just want them to get back. I like our family all together."

“They'll be back soon," he assures her.

“Henry, do you understand what we’re about to get into?”

“Not really. But I know I’m with my family. And just like you like our family together, so do I. Because we always come through one way or another. You and Emma always come through. You will here, too.”

She lets out a soft gasp of emotion, unable to hide the warm and soft feelings he stirs in her.

“Mom, if you need to –”

His words are cut off by approaching footsteps, and then Regina is in front of him, fire in her hand.

“Whoa! Whoa! Don’t light me on fire,” Emma cries out as she steps out from behind the trees.

Accompanied by three other people: Esmerelda, Granny and Red.

“Your Majesty,” Esmerelda greets. “Your Swan found us.”

“Your Swan,” Red mocks, under her breath, drawing a glare from Emma.

“It appears she did,” Regina confirms, glancing over at Emma and Granny. Her eyes scan them both over, looking for any sign of injury or distress. Their body language is loose and easy, though, which makes her own unfurl just a bit, the fire in her hand vanishing.

“She told us everything including what you would like to do,” Esmerelda continues. “Are you sure about this? Are you sure you want to join us? You won’t be a Queen once you step inside our world and the chance of you surviving this war of ours is…slim at best.”

“I know the odds and the risks,” Regina confirms. “My role in this is to do whatever needs to be done to stop Frollo and bring peace back to this land. I know that sounds insane, but –”

“It’s what we’re fighting for,” Esmerelda confirms. “But he’s a very powerful and dangerous man with only evil and cruelty in his heart. He was my personal demon. He murdered my lover and a dear friend of mine out of lust and vengeance. But even then, he wasn’t what he is now. He didn’t have this kind of power, and now that he does, he’s using it to destroy anyone and everyone who defies him.”

Regina’s eyes close, the old wave of familiarity washing over with nauseating force.

Not surprisingly, she feels Emma’s hand at her back. Usually she would find the easy familiarity annoying; Emma’s quick step to her side irritating. Because she’s spent most of her life being able to take care of herself without anyone else, but now…now she finds that she craves Emma’s comforting touch, her body relaxing into it. 

Annoying. Irritating. Comforting.

Much like Emma herself, she muses.

She takes a deep breath and turns her attention back to Esmerelda. “I was that monster,” she confesses, a tremor to her voice. “So I know the heart of that cruelty very, very well. But I was also one of his victims at one point.” She feels Emma’s hand tighten at her back, her lack of awareness of the actual history between Regina and Frollo allowing this confession to land on her harshly. No doubt, they will speak of this later. “I know what Frollo is capable of and I know how he thinks because I have been both a monster and a victim. I can’t ever be forgiven for what I did, but perhaps I can atone and make amends and I can do everything in my power to see that these people - _your_ people - will no longer suffer under a tyrant.”

“You are not him,” Esmerelda states. “He would not be capable of such words, no matter the fire he walked through. And he would never be capable of the incredible loyalty nor the beautiful love of others as you are. I accept your offer of help, Your Majesty.” She extends a hand to Regina, who immediately takes her, their palms squeezing.

"As you said, I'm not the Queen, anymore."

"We're not inside yet," Esmerelda reminds her, earning a small chuckle from Regina. 

“Hey, uh, not to break up the warm and fuzzy meet-and-greet you two are having here, “Red interrupts. “But we should really be getting back. The Witching Hour is coming soon, which means the Shadow Guard will be out.” Turning to Emma and Regina, she explains, “Frollo's thugs know we are somewhere in the canyon, but they also know that if they’re in there after the sun goes down, they’re at the mercy of the elements, the animals, the maze itself, and us. So they try to draw us out to force a fight on their turf. Or worse, make us deal with Frollo's Shadow Guard."

“Shadow Guard?" Emma queries. "Are they the 'God-forsaken creatures' you were telling us to keep an eye out for?"

“They would be, yes,” Esmerelda concurs. “They are shadows of dead soldiers made whole during the night. During the day, they fade back behind the curtain between life and death and find rest. At night, though, he brings them across and makes them serve his will. They’re as much victims in this as anyone else is.”

“The men we rescued you from seemed like they were happy to do their jobs,” Regina counters.

“That’s the second part of his army, and they are the cruelest and worst of men,” Esmerelda states. “But they are significantly fewer as well as significantly inferior to the soldiers he forces from their eternal rest night after night. The Minister is indignant that he has to excessively pay the living to serve him, and tends to find that unacceptable. He allows only absolute loyalty and obedience at all times. He will punish them if he thinks they are failing him."

“I remember,” Regina murmurs. “These...living men, they don’t search for you in the canyon?”

“They have and every single one who has ventured into deep has failed to return to them.” She looks at the newcomers pointedly, daring them to contest the means and ways of the rebellion.

Regina says instead, “I understand. But will _your_ people understand me?”

“You're afraid they’ll reject you?”

“I was the Evil Queen. They would be within their right to do so.”

"This is true," Esmerelda concedes. "But I think you will find that the need for survival changes much. If you’re not trying to harm us, and are willing to stand with us, then we will stand with you.” The words are intense and painfully honest, hanging over them with a sense of sharp awareness of the struggle they’re about to walk into. One so ugly and harsh as to make a bedfellow of an Evil Queen.

And then Granny cracks, “Impressive. You could give Snow White a run for her money with that speech.”

It’s enough to make Regina snort in bemusement, her anxious energy bleeding away.

"Before you agree to come in, you should know that there is no magic allowed inside; the Minister may not be a magic user as the of you are -" Esmerelda looks from Regina to Emma - "But as we have seen from his control of the Shadow Guard, he has connections to the darkness. We cannot risk revealing our location."

"We can agree to that," Emma states, glancing over to Regina for confirmation; she nods.

Then, because it's important to make sure all details are accounted for, Regina asks, "What of our horses? I'm not all right with abandoning them."

"Neither are we," Red soothes. "Don't stress, we have a place for them. Horses are part of our resistance, too."

Satisfied, Regina looks over at her family – at Henry and Emma, right beside her as always. She’s not sure she will ever believe that she has earned the right to this, but she finds herself hoping that one day she will. She finds herself hoping that one day, she will think herself worthy of them and their love for her.

One day.

So she turns to Esmerelda and says, “Take us inside.”

* * *

“We have newcomers,” Esmerelda exclaims, standing up in front of a gathering of almost a hundred. They’re in the largest room of the underground bunker, candles and torches illuminating the area. Red had informed them that a long time ago, this had been the been the retreat of a Court of Kings. A place for the high and mighty elites to hide while the rest of the world burned. Long forgotten, they had stumbled across it during one of their frantic retreats from Frollo's men and then used Red's senses to create a path for them to use to come and go. It's been their base for the last ten months.

A round of hoots and hollers greets Esmerelda's statement, a clear indication that this ritual is a normal around here. With dramatic flourish, Esmerelda motions to Emma, Regina, Henry and Granny, who stand at the front of the group. They’re all wearing white ceremonial type hooded cloaks – garments used to initiate newcomers into the resistance. A way of stripping away armor and barriers without making someone so vulnerable that they become defensive. “These courageous newcomers to our war against the evil Minister Frollo are both known to us and not at all.” She points towards Emma, who removes her hood so as to allow the other resistance fighters to see her (Emma had been the one to be the most resistant to this, eventually talked into it by Regina who seems rather undisturbed by the role of ritual and ceremony in things like this). “She is the much-prophesied daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. The child who was taken across realms to break a curse. She returned here to protect her family, a call we all know too well. A few nights ago, she followed her instincts and heroically saved the lives of myself and six others. She fights with us now.”

A roar of approval goes through the room.

Emma steps back and mutters under her breath to Regina, "I should have her write my bio the next time someone asks."

"Shh," Regina scolds, but Emma's pretty sure she's halfway to a genuine laugh beneath the hood. Probably much to her annoyance.

Esmerelda points to Granny next. “She is the grandmother of our friend and fellow warrior, Red. She speaks to the moon in the same way, and knows of the old ways of this land. Adept at healing, she will partner with Matthew to keep us safe. And as I understand it, she may also be able to turn our gruel into something vaguely edible. She fights with us.”

Another roar of acceptance.

Next up is Henry. Esmerelda smiles warmly at him. “The son of two brave women and two proud houses, one of light and one of dark. A writer, a poet, a healer in his own way. He will not fight in the field, but he will tell the story of the heroes we have lost and the heroes we might still lose. He will tell our story and ensure no matter what happens to us, we are never forgotten.”

This, too, gets loud applause, even if Regina rather suspects the fighters down here don’t quite understand the purpose of – or need for – a chronicler. One day, she thinks, they will. Perhaps sooner than any of them might have expected.

And then she braces for her own introduction, her heart pounding.

She feels Emma’s hand slip into hers and wants to reassure her that she can handle this on her own.

Instead, thankful for the grounding connection Emma always provides her, she squeezes Emma’s hand and waits.

Esmerelda turns to her. “She is the Evil Queen,” she starts, and the room goes dead silent. “Or at least she was a long time ago. Some of you may remember her. May even have suffered under her rule. Some of you may have been affected by her first curse. But some of you may have been here for when she and Snow White returned and stood together to save this land from the Wicked Witch. She is the salvation that we are all fighting for, all of us sinners in our terrible ways. She is the proof that we can be something better if we stand together for something instead of against it. She is fighting with us.”

For a few interminably long seconds, there’s nothing but silence greeting Esmerelda’s words.

And Regina's heart sinks, wondering if her quest has ended already.

A hand over her heart, wondering if it’s about to decay and crumble beneath her fingers.

Red claps.

Someone else claps. And then another and another, until they’re cheering.

Emma squeezes her hand again, and then leans forward and whispers, “Breathe.”

And so she does.


	6. 6.

Day one is difficult in a different way than Regina might have expected.

She’d assumed there would still be a marked lack of trust, suspicion about her true motives, but what she finds is that most of the people down in the bunker with them have too many other thoughts to be worried about her. Oh, she’s sure there’s still some hesitance, but they trust their leader completely and if she’s willing to speak for Regina, then they will fall in line behind her.

No, the difficulty of the day comes rather in the systematic stripping down of her individuality.

Standing in the middle of one the dimly lit rooms, she strips away her more luxurious and expensive clothes for ones that make more sense for guerrilla warfare. While black has always been her color, there’s something a bit shocking about looking in a mirror and seeing herself dressed head to toe in black, including a kind of ski mask to hide her face. In addition to the mask, she’s told that when she goes out into the field, she will be using grease paint on her face to further disguise her identity and help her to blend into nature should her mask be lost. Dressed like this, she’s not the former Evil Queen or even Regina Mills, but rather just one of many fighters trying to stop a tyrant. It’s a bit disquieting to consider herself to be identity-less after the years she has spent trying to figure out exactly who she is, but Emma reminds her that that’s exactly how these rebellions work. Everyone has to be part of one machine when they’re at war, and then when they’re not, they can be themselves.

“Doesn’t it get difficult to change back and forth?” Regina asks later that first evening. She’s sitting at a small makeshift table, rolled logs providing the seating, small wooden bowls full of chicken broth in front of them. Emma and Red are across from her, their faces illuminated by the candle on the table.

“At first, yeah," Red confirms. "But you get used to it. It’s not how I’d want to live every day, but then this isn’t really living.” She motions around them. “We do pretty good in this space and so do the others –”

“There are others?” Emma asks.

“Did you really think our whole resistance was one hundred large,” Red throws back. “We’re bigger than that. We have four major groups - West, East, North and South. We're the West. Each one has their own leader, but Es tends to be accepted as the overall on the rare times we all work as one. There's a handful of smaller cells, but they tend to work independently of us, and mostly to protect their own villages as opposed to being part of the bigger mission. Thing is, we're not as big as they probably think, but we’re very good at making a lot of noise with what we have."

“So was Snow,” Regina points out. “But she also had the fairies. And they _did_ change the tide of the war quite a bit.”

“We don’t really have that or, to be honest, any kind of magic at all besides you now. We’re just trying to push and survive long enough to find a way to disrupt his control over the Shadow Guard. Once we do that, his actual army is far less intimidating and can be dismantled. They’re murderous thugs for sure, but even cretins like that don’t want to work for someone who might kill them just for breathing.”

“Unless they’re paid very, very well,” Regina sighs, thinking of the last night before she’d been captured. “And even then, most of those will abandon you when it looks like the war has been lost.” Some had returned to her after she’d been exiled, enticed by her plan for a brutal revenge and a lot of gold, but the vast majority had removed their armor and fled, running as far away as they could from their sins. To be fair, she had kind of done that as well when she’d cast the curse.

“Exactly,” Red agrees. “But so far, we haven’t even gotten close to Frollo. He knows where our camps are and knows we can’t risk being too far away from them once darkness falls.”

“Red, why haven’t we seen the Shadow Guard?” Emma asks. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Regina push her bowl away. Looking over, Emma observes that the former Evil Queen had consumed about half of the broth – in Emma’s experience, a normal amount for Regina. Never much of an eater, anyway (her mother had told her once that royals like she and Regina were often brought up to be wary of food and the fattening effects of it; a woman should always be slim and firm, soft only in the spots a man might desire her to be so) , Regina has always been more apt to consume an entire hamburger than a bowl of chowder (Emma has noted, however, that Regina has a wicked, though hyper controlled, sweet tooth). That will probably have to change, but in time. Regina never does anything all at once.

"Go ahead," Regina suggests, pushing the bowl towards Emma, who rarely struggles for an appetite. 

“So you’re sharing food now?” Red teases, watching as Emma picks up the bowl and brings it to her mouth.

Regina rolls her eyes and then repeats Emma’s questions, “We haven’t seen them at all. We've been exposed during the Witching Hour several times already."

“They were probably waiting by the mouth of the canyon for us,” Red provides, then picks up a piece of bread and dips into what's left of Regina’s broth, drawing a lifted eyebrow from Regina. “Even with all of our different cells, we are definitely the ones who have caused Frollo the most aggravation. If he took us out, he’d probably be able to end this war within a few days. But so far, all they can do is wait.”

“How did Esmerelda’s scouting party get pinned down by the entrance a few nights ago?” Emma queries.

“Did she tell you how many men were with her when she left?”

“More than were with her when we found her."

“Exactly. They went out there to collapse one of the coal mines.”

“No power, no allegiance,” Regina mutters. Then looks up at Emma. “Snow did that to me. Though many of the towns and villages wanted to align with her out of _principle_ -" her nose flares when she says the last word, her unspoken but unkind opinion on it more than obvious ." - most remained allegiant to me because I could guarantee them that their basic needs would be met. Few remember, but there was a time when I wasn’t a terrible Queen – before everything became all about trying to destroy Snow – and I did a fairly good job of keeping most of the working class fed and housed. So when the war started, they chose to stay under me. Until Snow blew up two coal mines on my western edge, which left me unable to provide power to whole villages. They abandoned me after that.”

“Exactly,” Red acknowledges. “It was one of the turning points in our war with you.”

“I recall,” Regina says quietly.

“Okay, so Esmerelda takes her men out to destroy the coal mine and then?” Emma prompt, wanting to change the conversation away from the past. Every part of her wants to check on Regina, noticing how quiet she’s suddenly gotten, but she knows that this isn’t the time or the place for that. And she knows Regina wouldn’t appreciate it. 

“They got ambushed by the live Guard. Our intel was slow. That happens here time to time because of the speed of transport. Different world from Storybrooke. We’ve been lucky that it hasn’t been flat out bad, but the sluggish communication has hurt us time to time. Es ran the survivors back to the canyon, and well, you saw.”

“She could have led them right to you,” Regina notes.

“Nah, she would have lost them twenty steps in. The only reason they got as close to killing her as they did was because it was right at the entrance of the canyon. We know and they know the score.”

“Until the score changes,” Emma counters.

“She’s right,” Regina states. “Destruction of the mines was a turning point in the war, but I came very close to taking control back over after I located one of your camps.”

Their eyes meet and Red says, a heaviness to her tone, “I remember.” Her eyes flicker up to Regina, and then they're just staring at each other.

“Hey, uh, what am I missing here?” Emma asks, baffled by the sudden tension ramp.

Regina stands up, abruptly. “If she wishes to tell you, she may.” And then she’s walking away, disappearing down one of the poorly lit corridors, clearly headed for the sleeping area.

“Her men killed every person in the camp,” Red elaborates her once the Queen has disappeared. “Including friends of mine. She showed up to watch and direct the end of it. Making sure everyone knew that she was still there and that Snow hadn't defeated her. She knew we were watching her from a safe distance and so she made sure we all knew that she was the one with the power over life and death."

“Red, I’m –”

“Don’t apologize. This isn’t your burden to carry, as much as you might want to carry hers for her. This is hers."

“I know. And I don’t…” Emma stumbles as she tries to gather her thoughts, and tries to find a way to explain how even knowing all of that, she still loves and wants to protect Regina.

She still believes in her.

But Red waves her hand. “Don’t stress yourself trying to find words that don't exist, Emma; I get it. And I know she isn’t the same woman she was even if she doesn’t seem to realize it. Weird, right? Everyone here seems pretty accepting of the new Regina, but she keeps looking like she’s more afraid of the Evil Queen than we are.”

“Her heart nearly collapsed because of all she did; it’s a bit of a wake-up call."

“Yeah, I know wake-up calls like that. I woke up covered in my lover’s blood. And you live in that self-loathing and self-doubt until it leaves you desperate and frantic and willing to fall back into old ways because they might have been terrible and unthinkable, but at least you hurt less than you do when you’re healing. It’s a constant battle. I get that, but one day you realize that the only standing in the way of healing is you. That's where she is right now. I won't ever forget watching her prance around that night, laughing and...but that person _isn't_ this person. I see it. Maybe she needs to, too."

“Who knew you were so wise?” Emma chuckles.

“Hot and wise,” Red replies. “Shame I’m taken."

"Are you now? By whom?"

"Need to know. Maybe eventually, you'll get to know," Red winks, and then stands up. She gestures behind her, to where Henry and Granny are sitting with the camp medic, Matthew, listening to him tell them his war stories. They’ve been there for a a couple of hours, apparently just soaking it all in. Once Granny had informed all of them of her experience with healing - and that she has with her a small amount of supplies and medicine from the other world - they'd been quick to bring her in with the intent to put her to work. "You want me to tell Granny to let him get to bed?"

“When he’s ready. He seems like he’s enjoying himself. And he's not a little boy, anymore."

“No, he isn't. Little Henry Mills is becoming a young man. I can't imagine Regina is handling that well."

"As well as can expected," Emma admits. "I think we both would have preferred that he grow up like a normal boy, but we're not normal so why should he be."

"Normal is boring," Red chirps, squeezing Emma's wrist. "Sleep well, Em. Tomorrow, it gets exciting."

* * *

After Red leaves, Emma gets up, crosses over to Henry, squeezes his shoulder, and then exits down the same hallway Regina had left through previously. She emerges in a much larger room, the floor of it overtaken with bedrolls and hammocks. A quick glance around, and she spots Regina tucked away in the far northeast corner that she’d chosen for them the night before. The room is far too small for multiple tents so only one is set up, to be used to provide a visual barrier, a place to change clothes and steal a bit of privacy. Being in a gathering area this large with so many people – probably around twenty or so in this room alone – is daunting for Regina, her nerves clearly on edge due to the exposure. It’s a trust thing, and Emma gets that, but after her time in prison, this is nothing.

In prison, she’d had to be constantly on guard. Here, everyone just wants a good night’s sleep.

She approaches slowly, taking in how Regina is tucked into her bedroll, staring up at the ceiling. She can see that Regina has changed out of the all black heavy-duty fighting clothing and back into her more comfortable night clothes from home, the soft cotton no doubt a familiar pleasure against her skin after wearing the rougher, less well-constructed resistance garments all days.

Emma thinks to say something, thinks to start a conversation and check in on her, but in a flash of understanding, recognizes how little words are needed right now. Instead, she strips quickly, not caring who might see (another gift from her prison days), changes into her own sleep clothes and then plucks up her bedroll and moves it next to Regina’s. “I'm here,” she says.

Regina turns towards Emma, her body sliding against Emma’s, only the fabric of their bedrolls keeping her from being fully in Emma’s arms. From this proximity, Emma can see the tears staining Regina’s cheeks, her omnipresent grief and guilt continuing to poison her hope. Red's previous words about Regina not being able to see how much she's changed ring in her head. There’s a thousand things she could try to say, but Emma knows all of them will be empty right now.

All she can actually do is be here and hope this war they’re now part of here will help them both.

So she leans forward and she kisses Regina’s forehead, her cheeks and then her lips. Gentle, and not intending for anything more than a connection and comfort.

It works; Regina relaxes.

Sleep comes soon after.

* * *

The next two weeks are spent in a cycle of exhaustive training sessions, informational gatherings to discuss and talk through possible targets and intelligence briefings where they go over the successes and failures of previous missions. Often, these end somberly, with updates about who has been lost in the fight.

Sometimes, though far too rarely, they conclude with a touch of celebration. A small victory. A bit of hope.

Henry asks one night, over dinner, over a discussion about how to keep morale up, "Why doesn't the resistance have a cool name?"

"Like?" Red asks.

"Like Dumbledore's Army."

Regina's eyebrow lifts, making her manage to look haughty even dressed all in plain black clothing. "I wouldn't call that - or them - _cool_."

"No, that's just the Madam Mayor side of you creeping out; you've never appreciated smartass up-starts," Emma teases, grinning when Regina rolls her eyes. 

"And yet, here I am with one," Regina drolls.

"What kind of name are you thinking for us, Henry?" Red prompts, clearing her throat.

He shrugs. "I dunno; I just came up with the idea."

"It's a wonderful idea. Come up with one which speaks to our cause, and I will ensure that it's considered," Esmerelda offers, smiling warmly as she sits down beside Red. She looks over at Regina and Emma, her demeanor shifting to a more business-oriented one. "You've both done very well over the last two weeks. I believe you're ready. Tomorrow evening, we go out."

* * *

Their first mission is a supply run, and they’re paired with Red and Esmerelda and three others for it.

“Snatch and grab,” Red explains as she comes over to join the group gathered around one of the makeshift tables. Henry is there as well, just listening, taking everything in as usual. "There's one major installation near King George's old castle, but the vast majority of soldiers tend to be broken out into a small scattered camps all around the land. We'll hit the one over by the Quarry Bridge."

“In the past, we've used Red in wolf form to distract them while we empty their stocks, but our last several jobs have failed; they appear aware of her. We'll need a different lure, " Esmerelda explains. 

“A magic show might be enough to do it,” Regina suggests, turning her hand over and producing fire in her palm.

“She’s right. They must have passed along intel about me, but they probably haven't updated all of them about her. And if she goes in as the Evil Queen, she'll get their attention,” Ruby agrees. 

“How does Regina get out of there?” Emma queries, glancing over at Regina and taking in her expression-less face. 

“That will be my job," Esmerelda instructs. "You will be with the recovery team. As I understand, you have a familiarity with being a thief.”

Regina snorts loudly at that.

“Ignore her,” Emma says. “And yes, I know how to…remove a few items from a mark.”

“She does,” Regina confirms. And well, harassing Emma seems to have at least buoyed her mood. That's something.

Even if that something is coming at her expense.

But then Regina is grinning at her, and it’s hard to be mad when Regina is so clearly trying to get a rise out of her. Which is, to be fair, kind of the bread and butter of their whole relationship.

“Okay, so Regina distracts the guards and draws them away, we steal the available supplies and then you two make it back to camp behind us?” Emma clarifies. "That simple?"

“That simple,” Esmerelda assures them. “Our scouting has verified that they have about two weeks of supplies with them. We will use the cover of nightfall to get close to their camp and hold. Once Regina has done her part, the rest of you will rush in on horseback, load up the saddlebags and retreat as quickly as possible. You should be in and out within ninety seconds max. If all goes well, we should be right behind you and all of us should be home in time for a late supper."

“You’ve done this many times before,” Regina notes.

“We've had no choice but to. It's not easy to get food when you’re outlaws worth thousands of pieces of gold,” Esmerelda chuckles.

“Fair enough. When do we go?”

“Within the hour. Remember, we need to be back here before the Witching Hour.”

There’s nods of agreement, and then everyone is standing and moving away.

Leaving just Regina and Emma with their son.

“You holding up?” Emma asks, nudging Henry with her shoulder.

“I'm good." He looks over at Regina. “Are you? Good? I know you have to do this because it’s your atonement, but you’re going to be okay, right?”

“I will be fine,” she assures him. “I have a lot I am still trying to figure out and...a lot of doubts, but I'm...I'm surviving. As always, my sweet Prince.” These words seem too strong and hard for him – too honest – but after their previous conversation, she knows that she needs to be as straight with him about this as she can.

He deserves the respect of the truth.

"You're always going to come back, right?"

“With every breath in me, I will always fight to come back to you," she vows.

“I’m holding you to that.”

“So am I," Emma adds, finding Regina's eyes.

"Don't worry," Regina vows. "I'm not leaving either of you anytime soon."

* * *

Dressed all in coarse black clothing, grease paint on her face and a mask sitting on the top of her head, waiting to be pulled down, Emma crouches down in the underbrush, kneeling next to Red and the others. Behind them, their horses are waiting, their usually full saddlebags completely emptied out. It's late in the evening, the sun having finally completely set, darkness entirely fallen.

Up on the road, with only the moon providing light for them to see by, they watch as Regina approaches the thankfully well-lit camp. With a whirl of her hand, she changes her clothes from the all black resistance gear to the fancy extravagance of the Queen, her heels biting into shaky dirt. It’s amazing she’s able to stand up much less walk on those things, but she’s pulling it off.

Regina turns her head, catches Emma’s eyes and nods.

“She’s ready.”

Red whistles, low and soft, but it’s enough for Esmerelda, who is up the road beyond Regina to continue moving towards the area where Regina is supposed to lead the guards to.

A few more seconds pass and then Regina is striding forward, looking every bit like the Queen. Mere moments later, the sound of men yelling fills the air.

Red turns to the group and orders, “Get ready to ride. Once we break the perimeter of their camp, ninety in and out.”

Nods of agreement greet her and then she’s turning back to Emma.

Who is watching the woman in the glittery purple dress throwing fireballs at the soldiers. Watching as Regina suddenly seems to falter, her magic appearing to fail her; Emma reminds herself that this is the plan and that Regina has back-up. She tells herself that it will be all right and she and Regina have gotten through situations far more dire than this. It's just that usually, she's the one backing Regina up (and vice versa).

“Mount up,” Red orders, and then she’s climbing up on her horse.

Emma does the same, eyes still on Regina. Watching and waiting.

And then Regina is fleeing into the trees, the men following close behind her, weapons out, the sounds of arrows being fired piercing the air.

“Go,” Red hisses, and they’re off.

Ninety seconds in and out.

Exhausting, exciting, exhilarating.

Ninety seconds and full saddlebags and then Red is snapping out, “Let’s get out of here.”

To Emma she says, "They'll be right behind us."

Emma looks back once more, hearing the sounds of fighting.

Knowing Regina is handling it. Wishing like crazy that she was there with her.

But this is the mission.

She takes a breath, releases it shakily and then follows after Red.

* * *

They're not right behind them, though, and by the time the Witching Hour arrives, and Regina and Esmerelda still aren’t back, everyone at the bunker is starting to get anxious.

Actually, they're well past "starting". 

“We have to go after them,” Emma demands, hands on her hips. They're standing in the middle of the room often used as Operations. Small and compact and usually only meant for small groups and leadership to gather and and discuss logistics. There are handmade maps along the walls, each of them showing a different area and region of the Enchanted Forest. 

“Emma, we can’t,” Red pleads. “The Shadow Guard are out there.”

“And so is my mom,” Henry protests.

“And someone I care very much about is as well,” Red snaps back. “Es means a _lot_ to me, but Emma, we can’t. This is about more than one person or even two. These little resistance cells are the only things standing between Frollo and destroying the rest of this land and making it subservient to his evil. We have to...we have to hope for the best and trust them."

“She’s right, and she's right to trust us,” a voice says from the opening of the cave. And then, Regina and Esmerelda are emerging, both of them covered in dirt and grime and led in by their dust-colored sentries. The first thing Emma notices is that Regina's got a hand over her left bicep, blood on her fingers.

"Mom," Henry shouts and then he's over to her and hugging her. "You're hurt," he says.

"Just a graze," Regina insists, then looks up at Emma. "We ran into a little bit of trouble."

"I can see that," Emma replies, eyes still on the wound. It seems like a bit too much blood for a graze and she knows Regina well enough to know that even though she's trying very hard to be honest with Henry about the emotional journey she's going through, she will always try to protect him from other ugly realities. 

"What happened?" Red asks from where she's standing right next to Esmerelda. It occurs to Emma that the "means a lot" Red had mentioned before is probably an understatement. Interesting.

“Too many of them, not enough of us,” Regina deadpans as she takes a seat on the table. 

“We had to take the long way around to get back here," Esmerelda explains. "The road was crawling with Gabriels's thugs.”

“No doubt looking for not just us but also you and Regina,” Red suggests to Emma.

"Sorry," Emma says sheepishly.

“Don’t be; they’re looking for you because you saved my life. There are far worse ways to start a wonderful friendship than that,” Esmerelda dismisses, sitting down next to Regina on the table. She acknowledges Matthew and Granny as they approach, both of them carrying med bags. Granny moves over to Regina and Matthew takes a position at Esmerelda's side. “And besides, Regina showed herself quite adept at dealing with them. And, with dealing with the Shadow Guard.”

“You saw them?” Henry asks, a squeak of excitement in his voice, the storyteller in him perking up.

His excitement is most certainly inappropriate, of course, but understandable.

“We did,” Regina confirms, turning her body so that Granny can inspect the wound on her arm without Henry being able to see it. Emma's angle is better, though, and she's able to plainly see that there's an arrowhead stuck in Regina's left bicep. “They were crowding both sides of the canyon. So I threw fire at them. Apparently, both men and shadows are susceptible to flames."

“Thankfully it worked. They had us trapped between them. Only quick thinking on Regina’s part saved our lives,” Esmerelda explains. “The fire affected them at least enough to let us get past them. The Shadow Guard are dead so they can’t die again, but fortunately, they can be disrupted. A trick until we can find a way to set them free of Frollo's control.”

“Tricks are all we have,” Red shrugs, looking deeply exhausted and overwhelmed, her eyes on Esmerelda as Matthew continues to clean out her wounds.

“We survive however we have to,” Esmerelda replies, looking right at Red. “Sometimes that’s tricks, sometimes it’s bravery and sometimes it’s using the sinners we have all been to find absolution. It’s all surviving, and that’s what we’re doing and what we will continue to do.” Eyes intense and emotional.

A clearly deeply personal conversation between the two women.

So naturally, Matthew breaks it up with, “Es, you're good. Young Henry, can you help me get cleaned up? We rushed over here and made quite a mess of our supplies."

"I -" he looks back over at his mothers, clearly not wanting to leave them.

"Go on, Kid," Emma urges. "We're not going, anywhere. Help him get cleaned up and then circle back and we'll all get something to eat together."

"Okay," he reluctantly agrees, his eyes flickering towards Regina, brows knitting. Like he knows this is about her. Finally, he moves away with Matthew, exiting the room.

Granny says, "This looks like shit."

Which makes both Red and Emma laugh. Because Regina has an arrowhead in her bicep, and yeah, it really does look like shit, but she's sitting up and doing fine, and it's easier to find humor when the problem is fixable.

"Those morons managed to catch my arm when they were firing randomly into the woods," Regina sniffs. "Es broke the shaft off so we could continue to move."

"Well, I'm gonna need to dig it out. It's going to hurt like a bitch."

"Just do it, Eugenia; get it over with," Regina directs, then looks at the others. "They were out there looking for us because they probably assumed - correctly - that we just came across you resistance group and interfered with the soldiers killing you. Now they know we're with you." She stops speaking right as Granny pulls the arrowhead out, her eyes tightening. She hisses out an electric (and impressive) stream of expletives, then exhales and pushes past the pain so she can refocus. 

"So Frollo now has two women he wants to destroy in one place; he should be very concerned," Esmerelda declares, brazen and brave. Refusing to bend.

"I'm not sure you two should be left alone," Red snarks, seeing the clear connection between the two women.

"Shush," Esmerelda scolds. "Regina, Emma, get some sleep. We will come together in the morning. A morning we will see because of you. I won't forget that."

And with that said, Esmerelda steps out of the room, Red at her side.

“There’s a story there,” Emma notes, eyes on Regina's arm as Granny applies a gauze compress to it.

"I stay out of Red's love life," Granny deflects. 

"But not mine," Emma shoots back.

"Nope, not yours," Granny chirps. "You're set, Regina. Try not to sleep on that arm. We'll clean it out again in the morning."

"Thank you, Eugenia."

Granny inclines her head in recognition of Regina's words and then exits.

"So," Emma says, walking towards Regina. "What's it feel like, Your Majesty, to be a member of Dumbledore's Army now?"

"We're not calling ourselves that," Regina protests. Then, standing to greet Emma, she confesses, "It was...empowering."

"I have a feeling we're just getting started," Emma suggests, then touches her face, her thumb running across Regina's cheek.

“Probably,” Regina allows, her voice low and throaty, her eyes blown wide with desire.

Footsteps approaching cool them both off; their son arriving, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he tries to understand what he'd missed.

Emma chirps, "There you are. I'm starved."

"Me, too," Henry agrees, eyes sweeping over his mother. Deciding that she looks all right, the tension bleeds out of him.

“Then I suppose we should get both of you fed," Regina announces, then leans over and kisses Henry on the top of the head, her eyes finding Emma's as she does.

She mouths a single word. 

_Later._

* * *

It’s a few hours after dinner (well, more like breakfast considering how late they'd gotten back) and a quick soak in a tub full of fire-heated water, when Regina finally tucks into her bedroll, almost sighing at the meager softness beneath her. Who knew that she’d one day come to crave even that little and see it as so much? Life really is strange and befuddling at times, she muses.

"Hey," she hears from above her, just before she feels the warmth of body heat close to her. “Where’s Henry?”

“Already sleeping,” Regina indicates, motioning towards a small area about ten feet away from there. While they want him close to him, they’d recognized him for the growing boy he is and had chosen to give him the small bit of space that the large shared room they’re in had afforded them. “It's been a long day. Did your walk around help you clear your head?"

“Yeah. Just needed to burn off some anxious energy," Emma explains as she lowers herself to the ground. She opens Regina’s bedroll up, curling beside her and bringing them right up close to each other, only their night clothes between them. As they shift together to find a comfortable position in each other's space, Regina allows for the slightest grimace, a reminder of her injury from earlier. "You take anything for the pain?" Emma presses. 

"No. It's sore, but...the good kind of sore. The...I'm still alive kind."

"I get that," Emma repeats. "But any chance I can get you to be less reckless out there? I'd kind of like to keep you around. I have plans, you see. Big plans."

"Is that so?"

"Big, _big_ plans," Emma repeats, and then leans in and presses her lips to Regina's, enjoying the feel of the way Regina sharply inhales. 

When they separate, Regina reaches up and touches Emma’s now swollen lips. “You’re awfully presumptuous tonight."

“Maybe. But I kind of feel like we’ve been doing this dance for so long, it’s not really presumptuous so much as it’s long overdue.” With only the briefest of pauses to catch Regina's eye and confirm that she's in agreement (she is), Emma moves in for another kiss. This one isn’t sweet; it’s passionate and fierce, a kind of claiming. It only lasts a few seconds, though, and then Emma is pulling her mouth away and before Regina can protest the loss of connection, Emma’s moving down to kiss her jaw and neck. Regina hums, her body arching even as her head does, her throat being exposed as her back forms a bow. Her arms wrap around Emma, pulling her close and tight. “Are you a screamer?” Emma asks, then nips her ear, earning a throaty moan from the Queen.

“You wish," Regina grinds out.

“I do, but perhaps we can wait on that until we’re in a completely private place," Emma murmurs, her hands moving to the hem of Regina's shirt, careful to not hurt her arm as she pulls the shirt up and over her. As Emma's hands and mouth descend, it takes everything Regina has not to make a sound when everything feels like it’s exploding and turning into white-hot colors and formations behinds her shuddering eyelids, her fingers leaving bruises on Emma's back.

“Emma,” she gasps, the only thing she trusts herself to say. She whispers it like a mantra until she can no longer speak.

“Right here,” Emma whispers into her ear, and then starts all over again.

There’s almost a third time, but everything is too sore and tender, the exhaustion and fatigue from the day hitting them all at once.

"Don't think I didn't notice that you avoided promising me you'd be less reckless," Emma tells her, head against Regina's shoulder as they both try to catch their breath.

"Your pillow talk is terrible," Regina scolds. "Also, I didn't avoid anything; you distracted me."

"I think _you_ distracted _me,"_ Emma counters, popping her head up.

"Probably," Regina agrees mischievously, her fingers tracing over Emma's cheekbones, mapping them like a sculptor might. "I'll try to be less reckless if you do. Because we both know that there will come a time when you stupidly throw yourself into something - like the heroic blonde idiot you are - and end up hurt."

"You'll kiss me and make me all better if I do."

"Does sex always make you this corny?"

"Not sex. You," Emma declares, lifting her head to find Regina's eyes. "I hope you know that."

"I do," Regina assures her, and then she's the one initiating the kiss, her teeth scraping against Emma's lower lip. With her good arm, she pushes Emma back onto the bedroll. "My turn," she announces, eyes dark with desire. 

Neither of them noticing that a promise hadn't actually been made by either of them.

Not that they could have kept it, anyway.

* * *

Five weeks after they arrive at the camp, a job takes them to the ocean's edge to steal salted meat off of a infamous captain's ship.

While Emma and Red are handling him and his crew, Regina makes her way to the water, and kneels down, dropping a bottle into the sea.

A message Emma had asked her to find a way to get back to Storybrooke.

_Don't give up on us. We'll find a way home._

She smiles as Ariel's tail flips into the air, the bottle disappearing beneath the water as she gets up and walks away.

* * *

As it turns out, it doesn't take terribly long for Regina's prediction about Emma getting herself hurt to come to fruition.

It's about two months and several jobs later when a raid to destroy munitions goes upside down.

Very little is ever easy around here, but some days are harder than others, and ever since the supply run, the soldiers have been increasing their patrols. They're trying to get ahold of Regina and Esmerelda, the word around being that the bounties on both of them are extraordinary. The extra mercenaries on top of the Shadow Guard have made it difficult for the resistance to maneuver, having to scrape very small wins just to have anything at all.

That's where the plan to blow the munitions comes from; if they can take out a whole camp's weapons and force them to regroup, they can gain themselves some breathing room. 

It's risky, but they're starting to get desperate with supplies of their own running low.

It's decided (by coup, Regina grumbles), that because everyone is looking for Regina and Esmerelda, they will remain back at the bunker. No sense in bringing them directly to the enemy on an operation so complex that it could easily go belly up. Both women are less than pleased by that positioning, arguing that that's exactly why they should be there.

In the end, it's decided that Red and Emma will lead the team. The goal is to get in, light up the munitions boxes and get out. There's abundant gunpowder there to take care of the rest.

The team leaves just after nightfall, riding out on the horses (Emma has, over the last few months, gotten quite good on hers; not great, but good). 

"They know what they're doing," Esmerelda tells Regina, sitting down next to her at one of the tables about two hours after the team has left.

"I know."

"Which do you hate more? That she's out there at all or that she's out there without you?"

"Which do you hate more?" Regina tosses back, well aware that their parallel relationships are seldom spoken of directly, always just... _known_.

"I hate that we have to do this at all. I despise that we have live our lives in danger and violence. But, the alternative was allowing the Minister to rape this land and her people. That couldn't be allowed."

"That wasn't an answer," Regina says softly. "At least not to the question I asked."

"I would rather be out there with my Red. Just as I know that every time I go out without her, she wishes she were next to me. Now, same question, Your Majesty."

Regina chuckles. She looks across the room, over towards where Henry is sitting next to one of the older members of the resistance, a mid sixties year old grizzled mountain man named Jarod. The veteran of many conflicts across many tyrants (thankfully, his beef is with George not her), he's been filling Henry's head with knowledge about the history of the Enchanted Forest. "You warned me on the night you brought us inside that I wouldn't be the Queen in here, and yet you still call me that time to time. Why?"

"Because I have come to realize that your status as the Queen was never the problem. I've seen you in the field several times. And in here. Your ability to lead was never your demon."

"No, not that," Regina agrees. She taps her chest. "My heart."

"Sometimes, we fall from our path because the pain of staying on it is too much. I've...been there. I am looked upon here within this violent family of ours as virtuous and heroic, but where I grew up, I was looked upon differently. There, I was thought of as little more than a thieving street whore. A Romani bitch whose only value was on her back. And I suppose that's all I was. But I did what I had to do to survive. Few respect the courage of that; even I didn't. And then, the Minister decided that I belonged to him." She shudders. "I learned exactly how strong I was when I defied him and refused to let him own me. And when I did, I realized that everything I'd been through, every unwanted lesson I'd been forced to learn, had made it so that I could survive the torment he put me through." 

"With respect, you took advantage of grotesque men who were trying to take advantage of you. I _was_ Frollo. You talk about stopping him from raping the land and her people - I did that."

"Tell me something," Esmerelda queries. "When you started this journey, you said it was one of atonement. So, why then, do you treat it like it's one of penance instead?"

"Maybe because it's all I really know."

"Is that why you seem to be living for an end? Waiting for that perfect opportunity when everything you've done can be cleansed by some heroic sacrifice."

"I don't want to die," Regina insists. "I just...I'm not sure I know how to live with any of this, either."

"Your heart will help with that," Esmerelda assures her. "Our demons can be our angels."

"You sound like my Guardian," Regina muses. 

Esmerelda smiles slightly at that. "Now, about your lover."

"I didn't -"

"And I didn't say Red was mine. We may lie to others about our loves, but we who have seen the darker face of men should perhaps not lie to each other?"

"Perhaps not." Regina looks towards the exit to the room, the ramp which leads out of the bunker just slightly visible. "I'm afraid of losing her. Afraid of losing my son. Afraid what I will become without them. My mother always told me that love is weakness, but I've learned that with them, it's strength. They help me be strong."

"You know she feels the same way about you, yes? That you and the family you share are her strength?"

"I know Emma has never understood how actually strong _she_ is. With or without me."

Esmerelda is about to reply when shouting from the corridor cuts her off.

"Help! We need help!" Red calls, voice frantic.

Both women are up in a flash, rushing over to where Red is holding a groaning, doubled over Emma in her arms.

"What the hell happened?" Regina snaps, trying to angle closer so she can actually see how badly Emma is hurt. She sees Matthew and Granny approaching from one side, Henry from the other. The two healers gently pry Emma from them, moving her over to one of the tables and placing her flat upon it. 

"We blew the boxes and then we were running and I fell, I tripped," Red babbles out. "I tripped and I alerted them and they saw her and shot one of their muskets at her -"

"Regina," Esmerelda whispers, recognizing the tide of anger and fear rising up in the other woman. Her worst instincts surfacing. 

Regina forces herself to breathe, her hand settling over her heart. She looks over at Henry, sees his large frightened eyes. And manages to say, "You got her back here. That's what matters."

"No, what matters is that she going to be just fine," Granny call out at them from where she's bent over Emma, her eyes flickering first to Regina and then over to Red to reassure them both. "The round didn't hit her flush. I'm guessing a couple cracked ribs and some ugly gashes that'll need to be stitched up. Your Sheriff is going to hurt like the devil for awhile, but she'll live."

"Easy for you to fucking say," Emma snaps from where she is on the table, her eyes tightly closed. 

"As you can see, she's quite cheerful," Granny chirps. "Lucky for you, we still have a few painkillers from home. They ought to clear your attitude right up."

"Eugenia," Regina murmurs, a hand on her arm. With a nod, Granny steps aside to get the rest of her kit, allowing Regina and Henry to go to Emma.

"I assume you have an explanation for this?" Regina queries. There's a thousand other things she would prefer to say, but these are the words that keep her from showing everyone her feelings.

At least they work until Emma impishly replies with, "I forgot to dodge?" 

"Shut up," Regina growls, and then leans in and kisses Emma, suddenly not really giving a damn who might be seeing it.

When it's over and Regina finally pulls back, too proud to look sheepish (even if she's more than a little embarrassed by the show she'd just put on), Henry catches Emma's eye and waves. With a pained laugh, Emma drops her head back to the table and stares up at the ceiling, feeling entirely too many emotions all at once.

Regina turns her head and looks over at Esmerelda, who is standing next to Red, an arm around her. She dips her head slightly, a quiet thank you. 

Gratitude for a lesson learned, no matter how unwanted it might have been.

* * *

Time turns after that night, days into weeks, weeks into months and months finally into just over a year.

The destruction of the munitions does exactly what they'd hoped it would - giving them the space they need to run their operations and irritate Frollo. Missions blur together. Food and supply runs become destroying transportation and stealing horses, which becomes lighting enemy camps on fire and destroying their armor. Pranks, almost, and it's clear to them how insignificant these attacks are.

So they start moving on to the more destructive jobs – things like destroying oil fields or coal mines. Places of vital importance to the Enchanted Forest, but currently critical to Frollo. The destruction makes the monarch in Regina uneasy; governing is a balance of resources, both people and otherwise. She understands the why of what they’re doing, but frets about what there will be left after they finish off Frollo. A kingdom without coal or oil for energy could end up a very short-lived one.

These thoughts roll through her mind at night, until she curls and finds Emma there. It hasn’t been easy for the two of them – it never will be and that’s exactly as it should be – but it’s right and it's warm, and she thinks Emma will never know just how much these moments of calm and quiet feel like home to her.

She’s fighting for atonement and for balance, of course, but as the days have turned, she’s started to really consider her conversation with Esmerelda. Specifically, the difference between not wanting to die and not knowing how to live. More and more, she finds herself trying to come to peace with the idea of allowing herself to be happy with her son and her lover and eventually the family they’d left behind in Storybrooke. The guilt she feels over her past and its sins is enormous and part of her will never entirely believe she has the right to this, but she has it and has no intention of letting go of it.

“You’re thinking too much,” Emma murmurs, face pressed against her collar bone.

“Someone has to do it for both of us.”

Emma’s eye cracks open and she’s about to reply, but then Regina is putting a hand under both sides of Emma’s face, lifting her up and kissing her. Soundly. Passionately. Purposefully. An unmistakable frantic need in her touch. A clear sign that something is bothering her.

“Spill,” Emma prompts, once they’ve finally broken apart. "And don't say it's nothing. It's something."

“It's something. I was talking to Es about all the attempts we’ve made at taking Frollo over the last year. And the ones she made before we were here. I guess I was thinking about the future."

“Does this mean you finally believe there will be one for you? For us?”

“I’m getting there.” She lifts a hand and glides it across Emma’s cheek.

“Was that all you were thinking about?” Emma asks, noting the intense set of Regina’s jaw and the almost excited dance of her eyes. Like something mysterious is going on in her head. Knowing Regina, that’s a fair guess, anyway, but this seems like something bigger than just background noise. “Because you kind of have that face you tend to have on when you’re thinking murder-death-kill.” That should be enough to get Regina to smile or swat at her, but instead, it just seems to make her more thoughtful.

“Mostly,” Regina finally says. “I’m thinking about how tired I am. I’ll fight this war for as long as we have to – that was the promise I made and I will keep it one way or another – but I’m sick of fighting. I’ve spent most of my life fighting and…it’s just not what I want, anymore. At least not every day. What I want is to go home. I want to watch Henry finish growing up. I want to watch your mother burn every kind of cookie ever created while managing to babble out some nonsensical speech about how hope will ensure the next batch comes out correctly. And you…you, I want to spend all afternoon in my very soft bed with. And then all night making you scream my name. Over and over and over again."

Emma hums. “I really love it when you're your arrogant Queenly self.” She beams at the brightness she sees in Regina's eyes, awareness of how much Emma continues to accept her path. Emma reaches up and brushes Regina’s far too-long hair away from her eyes. “I want to go home, too. But until we can find a way to stop Frollo –”

“I think I have an idea for that,” Regina cuts in. “It’s an insane idea and I should have thought about it a long time ago, but it could work.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Emma states.

“I know, and in normal times, I might agree with you –”

“Normal times? I always think your plans are insane.”

“How did you get me into bed with such high flattery?”

“I have a great mouth,” Emma replies, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“It has value,” Regina grudgingly allows.

“So this absolutely batshit should-never-ever-be-attempted plan of yours?” Emma prompts.

“We’ve tried everything else. Everything conventional. The closest we’ve gotten is to the outside of his castle before one of his guards overwhelm us.” Regina protests. “Maybe it’s time we try some batshit crazy plans and see what comes of them. It can’t possibly be less effective than what we’ve been doing.”

“I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say.”

“Probably not,” Regina allows. “But it could end this.”

“Or it could get you killed,” Emma retorts.

“You don’t know that. I haven’t even told you my plan yet.”

Emma leans up on the bedroll, and then lifts a hand and presses it against Regina’s chest, feeling the thump of her heartbeat against her palm. “I’ve had this in my hand, and I’ve had my hand in you. I’ve seen you laugh and I've heard you cry. I've been with you when you've been furious and when you've been giddy. I've heard you whisper my name until you lost the ability to speak and you know I've whispered yours. I know you, Regina, and I know when you’re about to do something insane. I know you.”

“You do. Better than anyone. But I’m not doing that, I'm not trying to get myself killed."

“Then what are you doing?”

“Leveraging my past. You know that Frollo and I have an ugly history."

“No offense," Emma objects. "But your history with most of the bad guy choir is pretty awful.”

“Villains don’t always like to share,” Regina says almost defensively, and then shakes herself back to the present. “But this is…more than that. He had me as a prisoner, ready for his perverse judgment, and I escaped him and denied him that. He won't be able to resist getting me back."

“Regina, he’ll hurt you. I'm not okay with that."

“No, he'll try to hurt me as he did before, and then I’ll end him.”

“I won’t be beside you.”

“Who said you wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t do _any_ of this without you,” Regina tells her.

“Yes, you can. You’re strong all on your own.”

“Perhaps. But I’m invincible with you. And you will be there with me.”

“There’s no other way?”

“We can wait forever. Taking out a few mines and water wells and stealing food, but it won’t get us anywhere until his Shadow Guard are destroyed. And there’s only one way to do that. Go through him. The others – Es, Red, they haven’t been able to do it because getting close to him is impossible. Es could offer herself – he wants her just as badly if not more than me – but without magic, he’ll destroy her in minutes, and there’s nothing we can do to stop him. It’s why she hasn’t done what I’m suggesting now.”

“She told you that?”

“She did. She’d never survive the attempt. I might.”

“Might?”

“Will.” She leans in and kisses Emma again. “Fight one last battle with me.”

“You made a promise to the Guardian,” Emma recounts. “Now make one to me.”

“I promise you, I’ll make it back to you.”

Emma closes her eyes, exhales and declares. “Okay, let’s end this.”


	7. 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is significant violence in this chapter, as well as some dialogue about implied sexual assault (just dialogue).

“So, what do you think?” Regina asks, looking up and taking in the expressions of the others gathered around her. Esmerelda, Red, Emma, and the three other major cell leaders are in attendance, all of the huddle into the Operations room. She shifts nervously, waiting for their feedback. Previously renowned for her brazen if not quite arrogant confidence in decision making, she’s found much of her bravado stripped away since starting this journey. The fallout of having to truly and boldly face her many doubts and reconsider the previous bloody choices she’d made as the Evil Queen, certainly, but these are the times when she wishes she could call back some of that confidence in herself. Even if it’d been an illusion.

Or perhaps, a delusion formed though deep mental illness and enormous heartbreak.

Even now, she’s still trying to come to terms with that part.

"Just to be clear," the leader from the East starts. "You're going to get yourself captured by Gabriel. Because there's a bounty on your head, you believe he'll bring you to the castle instead of just killing you on the spot. Why?"

"Frollo wants to hurt me. His bounty directs his men to bring me to him alive. Gabriel is a greedy, narcissistic, little sociopath. He might get off on the idea of killing me, but he gets off far more on the massive reward he would get from bringing me in. And once I'm in, then I can take care of the Shadow Guard."

“It’s quite dangerous,” Esmerelda notes. “But I do believe that it could work.” She taps the parchment where Regina had drawn a rough sketch of the castle that previously belonged to King George and now houses Minister Frollo. “You understand that until the Shadow Guard are released, we won't be able to get our teams any closer than here, yes? You'll be on your own."

“I'm aware.”

The leader from the North asks, “Do we have an idea how to disrupt his control over the Shadow Guard? I can’t imagine you’ll have free reign to investigate."

“No, and I don’t need it. I just need to be very, very close to him.” Out of the corner of her eye, Regina watches Emma shift away from the table at that, pacing a couple steps away from the group, her body language showing the same anxiety Regina is feeling. “Over the last few months, we’ve been able to get close enough to scout the Minister on several different occasions. We have noticed that he always has a blood-red amulet around his neck. We believe that’s how he controls them.”

“Why? It could just be some expensive jewelry,” the cell leader from the Southern Front, his name Jamie, sneers. “You royals tend to enjoy walking around draped in diamonds while the rest of us suffer.”

“Hey,” Emma snaps back.

Regina puts up her hand. “It’s fine. He’s allowed to vent however he feels he needs to.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Granny, Matthew and Henry approaching. Over the last year, Henry really has attached himself at the hip to the two of them, writing down everything he sees while also learning how to take care of the injured. It’s not the real-world lesson she’d ever wanted to teach him, but sometimes life guides you down its own kind of learning path. As she has well - and repeatedly - learned.

Esmerelda quickly steps in, well aware that some of her partners have never quite warmed up to the former Evil Queen and probably never will. “A week ago, one of our raiding parties was caught outside after nightfall, and while we were able to retreat to a blocked location where the Guard couldn’t see us, we found ourselves trapped there. Fortunately, that allowed us to see Frollo interact with one of the Shadow Guard, who tried to resist him. We saw him show the soldier the amulet and the soldier retreated in pain and fear. Even dead, the man was terrified of what Frollo could force him to do. And then, we watched Frollo do something terrible to the soldier by holding the amulet against him.” She licks her lips, frowning at the memory. “We saw a beam of light erupt from it, and we saw the soldier break apart, screaming in agony.”

“We believe his soul was destroyed,” Regina explains, her voice quiet and somber. Her words and the grim reality of them hang over the group for almost a minute, echoing silence stretching out between them. Instinctively, Regina reaches for Henry, wrapping her arm around him. He’s likely seen much worse than that over the last year, but he’s still her baby. He will always be that.

“Okay,” the Northern Leader clarifies, the slightest tremor noticeable in his tone. “So, your plan is to get the amulet off of him?”

“No, my plan is to destroy it. Once we do, the Shadow Guard will have peace.”

“And then we can move in as one,” Emma speaks up, moving next to Regina and Henry. “And finish this once and for all.”

“That’s the plan,” Esmerelda concludes. “But we need all of our groups together on this. This could be the end of this terrible war. This could be our opportunity to start living the lives we were meant to instead of waiting to die. In a few days’ time, we could start on the work of rebuilding our world into one of peace, harmony and friendship instead of hate.”

“We’re in,” says the Eastern Leader.

“Us, too,” says the Northern leader.

Regina turns and looks at Jamie, the Southern Leader who still looks at her with hatred in his eyes. She doesn’t recognize him, but that’s almost the point; during her time as the Evil Queen, she’d hurt so many innocents. “You loathe me,” she acknowledges, head up, eyes meeting his. She accepts his right to his feelings, but she will not cower before any man. Never again. “You’re justified in that. Some days, I loathe myself. And I see myself in what Frollo is. Or at least what I was. I can’t change what I did, but I can stop him and try to return the peace you deserve.”

“Peace you took from years ago. Just as he has.”

“I know.”

"And what about justice? Aren't I owed that?"

"Who did I take from you?" Regina queries. She wishes this conversation wasn't so public; it's terribly risky because it could cause the other leaders to pull back on their support. Perhaps, even worse for her, is Henry's presence. She doesn't particularly like Emma hearing this either, but she trusts after all they've been through that Emma can handle it. Those old deep, dark fears within her about losing her son always start barking whenever he hears something new about her horrific past as the Evil Queen. Still, the desperate need for this operation to happen makes the risk a necessary one.

"My brother," Jamie informs her. "He was in the village of Danai. You probably don't even remember having it burnt to the ground, but you did. He was a good man."

Her eyes close for half a beat as she absorbs his words. "My apology likely means nothing to you -"

"It doesn't. It never will. So I ask again: what about justice? When do I get it for what you did?"

She sees Emma shift anxiously, her hand sliding down to the knife on her belt. Long since out of bullets for her service pistol, she's shifted to close-combat type weapons over the last year. Reaching out, Regina places her hand over Emma's, squeezing it. A gentle plea to stand down. She's got this.

All the while knowing that if their positions were reversed, she, herself, would probably have needed to be held back.

"What is justice to you? Me bent at the knee with an axe over my head? Is that the only justice possible for you?"

"You'd deserve it."

"Probably," Regina agrees. 

"But unless you're planning to go through all of us to get to her, that's not going to happen," Esmerelda states. "She is with us. And she has done tremendous good fighting for us. Jamie, we can end this."

Jamie looks over at Regina. “Fine. But why are you the one to do this? Why are you the only one who can stop him? Why can’t one of us do the same thing you plan to do? It’d be safer; at least we would know that none of us would try to steal power like that.”

“That’s not fair,” Henry says, voice pitched. “My mom has –”

“Henry,” she murmurs. “My son sees the best in me,” she explains. “You see the worst. You have a right, too. And your fear is understandable. But I’m not interested in power.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jamie hisses.

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you,” Emma snaps.

“Emma, no,” Regina pleads.

Emma shakes her head, having reached the end of her already quite limited patience. “No, he needs to hear this.” She turns towards Jamie. “You know what she did to me? I was five minutes old when she split this world apart and caused me to be sent through a fucking tree. So I could save everyone. I grew up alone and angry, thinking I had no family.”

She looks briefly at Regina, seeing Regina dip her head in shame. Not cowering, but conceding her enormous guilt for the pain she had long ago caused her now lover.

Fighting back on the urge to go to Regina, Emma again faces Jamie, and continues, “I turned into a thief – a skill that has helped this resistance. I became a hunter, another useful skill here. I learned how gray and imperfect all of our worlds are. And then I found my family, and I found Regina. We didn’t get along. We fought like...like you wouldn't believe. And then, then we found the common ground that is our son. And we both found out what could happen when abused and neglected people are allowed to give and receive love. She grew and I grew and we both became someone different. We’re here in this land, though, because her heart was crumbling thanks to all she’d done as the Evil Queen. She knows it and she accepts the fact that she is responsible for the death sentence hanging over her head.”

“Maybe she thinks if that amulet can bring back the dead, it can heal her heart.”

“No,” Regina says tiredly. “It brings back tortured shadows of the living for one, but also, what I want is the same thing you do: peace and a chance to live and find happiness. You may believe that I don’t deserve it, and you are probably even right, but it’s what I’m fighting for. Not just peace for the Enchanted Forest or peace in my personal life, but also peace in my heart. I did terrible, unthinkable, horrific things for which I can never properly atone or...find penance for. But I can help heal this land. I believe If you will let me.”

Jamie stares at her. “I will never forgive you for what you did.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“But I am sick of fighting. I don’t have faith in you, but Es does and I have faith in her. So we’re in. We will be your southern flank. If you betray us, though –”

“She won’t,” Henry growls, and he really looks like he’d like to punch Jamie.

But this is a situation Regina understands the emotional gravity of. “I won’t. I promise you I will live succeeding or die trying. I know my word mean nothing to you, but you have it, anyway.”

Their eyes meet for far too long to be comfortable (maybe, she thinks, he's trying to make her look away, but she holds his gaze). Finally, sharply, he nods.

Esmerelda looks around the room and says, "We have work to do."

* * *

"We never did come up with a good name for the resistance," Henry notes, sitting cross-legged on her bedroll and looking up at Regina as she finishes dressing for the operation.

"No, we didn't," Regina agrees, turning to face him. She holds out her arms, as if to ask how she looks. Even though she's dressed exactly as she has been for every other mission. But this is different - this is for all the marbles, and maybe this is all about being open and vulnerable with him. Maybe this is all about letting him see her insecurities.

"You look great," he tells her. "But, Mom, you don't have to do this."

"I do. This is the only way, Henry."

"You're coming back, right?"

"You asked me that before the first time I went out on a mission. Do you remember what I told you then?"

"With every breath, you'd fight to come back to me."

"I did then and I will now."

"Okay," he agrees. Then tilts his head. "How about FLEA? Fairytale Land Emancipation Agency."

She tilts her head, smiling at him with such bright love and affection. "Keep at it. I'm sure you'll get it."

"Don't wanna be a FLEA?" he teases.

"She is still a Queen, Kid," Emma says, wandering over to them. She comes up behind Regina, and checks the straps and belts securing gear Regina might be taking with her. Her utility belt has things like leaves and herbs which can be used to hydrate and dress a minor injury as well as a small vial of a thick paste which can close up a bleeder. Basic field type stuff.

"Am I good?" Regina asks, an eyebrow up as she watches Emma fuss over her. It's adorable and annoying, and she thinks she's never loved Emma more.

"Almost. One more thing." She holds up a little white plastic box. Small enough to fit in her palm. It'd come with them over a year ago, packed in their supplies from Storybrooke.

"A sewing kit?" Regina asks, uncertainty and confusion peppering her tone. Which makes sense, Emma muses. Regina is a fire and flash type fighter, capable of throwing a punch if she gets close enough and adept at using a rifle if she absolutely must. Something as small and insignificant as a needle hardly seems useful in battle. Especially like the kind she's about to walk into.

"A sewing needle," Emma counters, carefully removing a long thin needle from the plastic box. "Gut feeling on this. Trust me."

"Always do," Regina replies, taking the needle from her and turning it over in her hand, like she's uncertain what to do with it. A glance at Henry and he shrugs. He's been using needle and thread to help Matthew and Granny sew up some of the resistance fighters over the last year, but he's unsure how either of those can really help Regina while dealing with a supervillain like Frollo.

"No, here," Emma corrects, reaching for her hand and taking the needle. She turns Regina's left arm over, and then threads the needle into the cuff of her long black shirt. "Trust me," she says again.

"Do you doubt that I do?" Regina queries, her brow knitting.

"No. I just know you tend to doubt yourself. So I'm saying, if you refuse to trust yourself right now, trust me."

Regina nods, and turns her wrist a couple times to verify that the needle won't poke her and then drops her arm to her side.

"You nervous?" Emma prompts.

"I'm handing myself over to a man who - " she glances over at Henry. "Didn't exactly treat me like a honored guest the last time I was in his company." She offers a Henry a conciliatory smile when he rolls his eyes at her obvious censoring of what she'd gone through with Frollo. "So, I wouldn't say I'm excited."

"We'll be right out there waiting to rush in and end this whole thing once and for all," Emma assures her.

"I'm ready to go home," Henry chirps. 

"Me, too," she admits. "Soon."

* * *

It's an hour later and it's just the two of them - Savior and Evil Queen, Mayor and Sheriff - walking down one of the corridors together - their hands loosely together, swaying between them.

They're both silent in their own thoughts until Regina asks, "Do you think I've done enough?" She settles her hand over her heart so Emma knows what she's talking about.

"I think...I think you've tried. And if that's not enough -" Emma stops, her voice cracking and breaking before she's able to add, "It's enough."

Regina steps towards her. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Every moment. Every day." Emma's hand settles over Regina's, warm and soft. She leans in, then, and presses her lips against Regina's, breathing her in.

From the end of the hallway, Red calls out, "It's time, lovebirds."

"Her timing is trash," Emma grumbles as they break apart.

"As always," Regina agrees. "All right," she says, exhales, and then reluctantly steps away from Emma.

Even managing to get three feet away, before Emma catches her hand, causing her to turn back. "I love you, too," Emma tells her. "You're enough."

Blinking away tears - there's no time for them - Regina leans up and kisses her. 

Praying to any god who might be willing to listen that this won't be their last.

* * *

“This is stupid,” Emma mutters, shifting around behind the massive fallen tree that they’re using as their holding area as they wait for a signal from the castle that Regina has either succeeded or needs help. Or worse. No, no, that’s not something she can consider. Even if it’s pretty much exactly what she’s terrified about. Eyes focused on the darkness in front of her, the outline of a castle a grim gray blemish against an otherwise beautiful night, she tries to think about anything but that. Needs to think about anything but that or she thinks she'll go insane.

“Would you consider it stupid if you were the one using yourself as bait?” Esmerelda queries. “Because I do believe that this is exactly what you would do.”

“It is and it would have been stupid then, too, and she’d have called me an idiot for it.”

“Would that have stopped you?”

“No.”

“Exactly. Emma, you more than most know we do what we must to protect the ones we love and to make peace within ourselves. Three nights ago, when I first spoke to Regina about this plan of hers, I suggested that I should be the one to go. She was insistent it should be her instead, because of her magic." Esmerelda frowns. "While I, too, have my concerns over the wisdom of her presenting herself to Minister Frollo, I think we all know that we can’t continue as we are. Every day, we lose more friends and the only thing we gain is another day of watching the land we’re trying to save get destroyed a little bit more. She wanted to do something. She needed to do something. I can respect that. But...I understand that's little comfort to you right now. You love her."

“I do, but even if I didn’t, she’s my son’s mother. And even if she weren’t, I don’t want her end to be at the hands of a man who has already hurt her once. I don’t…she’s not meant to go out like this. After everything she’s done to heal her heart, she deserves the chance to live with it.”

“She does and she will. Have faith in her courage."

“I do. I just don’t know how much she has in herself when she keeps saying things like live succeeding or die trying,” Emma confesses.

“Regina is, like myself, perhaps a bit dramatic,” Esmerelda reminds her. “You know how deeply she feels everything. Enough to destroy a world and enough to save one. She’s coming home to you.”

“I know she’ll try. But the thing is, we don't even know if her magic will be useful against Frollo. She’s walking in there without any back-up. If something goes wrong, if it gets out of what she can control, there’s nothing we can do to help. By the time we get to her, a lot could happen to her. That's even assuming Gabriel didn't decide to kill her on the way there. Where the hell is Red?"

“She'll be here soon," Esmerelda soothes. “We know men like Gabriel. Even if he wasn't a greedy bastard, he's a sadistic worm. She's humiliated him on many occasions; he'll want to see her suffer."

“That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Regina understands men like that. It would be a grave mistake to underestimate her. And they will."

Before Emma can reply, there's a (very) soft crunch of leaves, and then Red is dropping down next to them, hair wild and eyes just as wild. "She's with Gabriel," she breathes out.

"No one saw you?" Esmerelda clarifies.

"Not in wolf form, they didn't. Thanks for the change of clothes." Then, to Emma, "She's okay. He tossed her around a couple times, but she's fine. The bigger problem is, they're using chains, not ropes."

"Fuck," Emma curses, and then looks up towards the outline of the castle again, the mist sliding around it. She can see the Shadow Guards moving in and out of the fog, awkward and puppet-stringed by the forces beyond their control. Thankfully, their perception is dim, and unless their attention is drawn over, they’re unlikely to notice the rebels hidden behind the thick trees. Instead, they lockstep march next to the water-way which extends beneath the castle, then swing backwards to do a full sweep past the massive gate which opens up to the front courtyard. Cutting off opportunity for attack.

Needing to do something besides just sit and wait and hope that her now likely defenseless lover will find a way, Emma scans around the area, looking for what few tend to see.

That's always been her quietest gift.

She hopes it won't let her down now.

* * *

Her plan is a good one, Regina reminds herself as Gabriel drags her down the polished hallway. Over the past year, they've come across each other on several occasions, each one being more violent than the last. She imagines that he's still bitter about Emma shooting him in the knee and subsequent losses to them haven't made the little sadist any happier.

Which had made it really easy to use him as the dupe for the plan. All she'd had to do was let herself get captured.

Oh, she’d put up a good fight, even incapacitated out three of his men (less for later, she'd reasoned) but then intentionally faltered just enough for him to overwhelm her and knock her down. She’d struggled and bit him, and he’d struck her and slammed her to the ground. All expected behavior. What had happened next wasn't, though, and that's where things had started to go bad.

Dozens of scouting missions - as well as their face-to-face interactions with Gabriel - had indicated that he and his men tend to use rope to bind their prisoners. Rope, she can deal with. Her magic can separate it and obliterate it. But she thinks, she'd been cocky and arrogant and hadn't considered that as much as they'd learned from Gabriel, he might have learned from them as well. So, instead of rope, it'd been metal chains he'd snapped on her wrists, enchanted with a spell to repress her magic.

"That's better," he'd taunted, his accent (and likely drunkenness) garbling his words. "I think I like you like this."

She’d spit in his face.

Anyway, now she’s bruised and bloodied and he’s dragging her down the corridor to Frollo’s chamber, giggling drunkenly to himself about how badly balanced she is because of the front-facing metal cuffs. She supposes she could show some dignity but putting up a fight makes it more genuine. It’s what Frollo would expect considering how brutal their last encounter had been. Plus, she really hates this little prick.

“I _really_ hate having to give you up,” Gabriel whines her as he yanks her to a full standing position. Lips against her throat, he whispers, “So many delicious parts of you to have in my mouth.”

She forces herself not to shudder at the smell of his rotted, alcohol-infused breath, and instead says, her tone haughty and dismissive, “So many disgusting parts of you to stuff down your throat once I’ve finished eviscerating you.”

“Sweetheart, look at your position; you're not in control here. You’re about to be in front of the Minister. What he does to whores like you...well, this is going to be fun."

She practically sneers at him in response, eyes glittering; delighting when he involuntarily shrinks from her. It’s not much, but she’ll take her small wins where she can.

At least for now.

Eyes on the prize, then.

Gabriel shoves the doors open and then calls out, “My Lord, I have a present for you.” He marches Regina into the middle of what was once George’s throne room and throws her onto the floor. From there, she looks around, noticing how much Frollo has changed the room to resemble the insides of one of the Old-World religious churches inclusive of what looks like a basin of fire. While religion is still a major driving force in the realm outside of Storybrooke, here in the Enchanted Forest, it’s largely part of the ancient past. Except for sociopathic hyper-repressed zealots like Minister Frollo.

Who Regina sees is standing next to the throne, looking out of the stain glass windows.

“The Queen has returned to me,” he says softly, still not turning. "I have missed you."

She rolls her eyes and then struggles to her feet, being shoved back down as soon as she’s up by a smirking Gabriel. He winks at her and she wonders if killing is always a bad thing.

Frollo turns, head cocked. “Gabriel, you may leave.”

“Your Honor –”

“I know you wish to watch. You’re deviant like that, and I’ve humored your debauchery, but this penance between the Queen and myself is personal. I shall not be appreciative of any further disobedience.” His eyes flicker up, the cruel smile on his lips reinforcing just how much of a madman Frollo is.

“My Lord,” Gabriel says, bowing slightly, and then turning and leaving.

“A soulless boy,” Frollo states as he approaches, heeled boots loud on the floor. “He can’t be saved and will eventually be cleansed with fire as all heathens are. But...you first.”

She forces herself back up again. “Your delusion hasn’t changed a bit, I see.”

“Nor has your defiance,” he answers, now standing opposite her. From where he is, so close, she can see the metal chain holding the amulet tucked under his blouse. “But a lot has changed for both of us, hasn’t it? Though I gave you the undue respect of calling you the Queen, you are no longer one. No longer powerful, now just a filthy street rat frolicking with other filthy street rats. Do you know what I do to street rats? What you once did. I exterminate them."

“I might be a street rat now, but at least I'm not a delusion psychopath like you are. At least not anymore. You're still the same monster you've always been. Still forcing yourself on women who would never give you the time of day, still paying and enslaving people to serve you because no one would ever choose to be in your company, still persecuting innocents in the name of a god you only pretends exists so that you can justify your cruelty, and you still smell like dirty ash and rotten herbs.”

“And you're still a heretic. Even after all this time. You think you've changed. Perhaps for the better, but there is no salvation for you. Only judgment and penance." And then he’s striking her across the face, one of his rings cutting down her cheek.

She stands back up.

He swings again, this time cutting her across the lip. “It would be in your best interest to stay down.”

“I've seldom done anything in my best interest; why would I start now,” she answers, spitting blood, and then standing up again.

She can almost see Emma’s frustrated expression, the desperate pleading warning for Regina not to do something stupid. To let opportunity come to her. But that’s not her way. She lifts her chin up, stares him straight in the eyes, knowing such defiance will enrage him.

“So stupidly brave,” he muses. “So arrogantly ignorant of your actual place.”

“Let me guess: Under you.”

“Now you’re getting it.” And then he strikes her again. As soon as she’s down, he grabs her hair and yanks it. She lets out a growl, and struggles against him, but cuffed as she is, she has limited leverage to stop him as he pulls her across the floor and up next to the throne. “If I recall, the last time we saw each other, I had your back stripped for your perversions. Shall we see how your wounds have healed, Your Majesty?” His hand goes to the back of her shirt, and then he’s shoving her forward so that her face is rested against the seat of the throne. It's a position which sends fear streaking up her, old memories from long ago of another man who had used a throne to harm her surfacing. He shoves up her shirt, his hand cold against her overheated flesh. “Interesting. You healed yourself.”

Forcing those old nightmares from her mind, Regina stares forward, unwilling to give him the pleasure of seeing her fear.

She insists to herself that she’s still in control, that this is still within the plan.

She just needs to find a way to get the cuffs off.

“The Lord demands of his children that they wear his burdens with honor.”

“Good thing you’re not my Lord and I’m not your child,” Regina growls.

“I could bring back Gabriel to bring you to heel,” Frollo muses. “He’d be happy to see you bleed.” He frowns, then, “But if I recall, that’s how you escaped last time. So, I think I’ll do...you myself this time.”

He yanks her up again and then throws her to floor, slamming her knees against the tile. She groans and rolls, on her back and staring up at him. “Who knew that such a great and powerful almost-god, would be such a pathetic bloviating coward who can only handle a woman when she’s tied up and bloody."

“Oh, you’re no woman. You’re a disease. A cancer.” He leers at her as he approaches again. “I know your story. One of your little street-rat friends who became a guest of mine told me all about your unholy perversions with Snow White’s daughter. He was quite perplexed by why that was my concern while he was bleeding out all over my floor, but that seemed fitting. Another life destroyed for you.”

That hits hard – harder than she would have expected.

“But what of your...lover? The actual mother of the child you stole.”

“I didn’t –”

He strikes her again, sending a crashing wave of pain through her jaw. “You speak when I allow it.”

“Fuck you," she grinds out.

Again, across the face, this one close to the eye.

Absently, she thinks that Emma is going to kill her. Then Frollo. Then her again.

Well, she reasons, if she’s around for Emma to kill her, that’s probably a good thing. It probably means everything worked out all right.

“You manipulated and warped the once famed Savior and turned her into your White Knight so that you could escape punishment for your sins. You stole her son and then corrupted him. You deceived those with simple, soft hearts into believing you could ever be more than the abomination you are. But that’s exactly what you are and if they won’t pass judgment on you because they lack the courage to, well then I will."

He yanks her up again, and she thinks she’s going to have whiplash from being jerked around so much, but then her eyes are tracking to the swinging necklace under his shirt once more, and her mind turns to that and how to get to it if she can’t convince him to remove the cuffs.

Which, right now, seems unlikely.

She thinks she could head-butt him, but unless she knocked him out clean, all it would do for her is give her a screaming headache atop her other injuries and piss him off even more. There’s no time to find something to saw the metal apart with so that idea is out, too. Which probably means she needs to channel Emma and figure out a way to pick the lock.

_Wait..._

Her attention gets called back by Frollo summoning Gabriel. Once the soldier is inside, Frollo motions down to her. “Take the Queen to the Judgment and light the flame. But be mindful; she’s a devious whore and she will try to seduce you into assisting her.”

Gabriel leans forward. “She’s welcome to try.”

“As if I’d bother with you,” Regina retorts, and oh, there’s Emma’s scowl in her mind again.

“No touching her, Gabriel. It is my responsibility to cleanse her, not yours. Just take her there.”

“You want me to chain her to the wall.”

“No. It’s best we not give her the chance to escape by removing her cuffs. Just kneel her down for me. I'll handle the rest."

“Got it. Up we go, sweetheart.” He grabs her, and she can’t stop herself from biting at him, managing to catch the side of his hand. His fist greets her cheek for that, but it was worth it.

Though, she imagines she looks deranged glaring at him with blood dripping down her face from all the different wounds he and Frollo have inflicted on her.

Frollo, for his part, is chuckling in bemusement. “As I said, she’s a vicious animal. Be wary.”

“Vicious animal is right. A vicious bitch of a dog,” Gabriel spits out. When she doesn’t respond, he growls and leans down and lifts her up, throwing her struggling frame over his shoulder, her head positioned towards his backside. She thinks she could probably try to bite him, but there’s limited upside and a massive degree of potential downside to that. Instead, she focuses on her wrists.

And the needle Emma had urged her to hide away within her cuff.

Gut feeling, indeed.

Shifting slightly, she brings her wrists even further together, the fingers on her right hand scrambling towards the cuff on her left wrist.

She thinks she might even have gotten the needle out on one try if not for Gabriel's should-have-been-expected lechery; he moves his hand up from the legs where he'd been holding her and settles his palm against her buttocks, squeezing. So she pays him back by leaning in and taking a bite out of his back, her teeth sinking in with vicious glee. Predictably, he yelps in protest and throws her from his shoulder, causing her to hit the ground a few feet away with a hard cracks, her ribs screaming in response. Wincing and holding herself in place as she exhales through the pain, she waits for him to grab her again. “I should kill you where you stand. Tear you apart."

“Likewise,” she mutters, allowing her eyes to close as he lifts her up.

She just needs to catch her breath. Just for a few seconds.

Those few seconds end in a hurry when he slams her to the ground of a room (most certainly the dungeon, she realizes grimly) filled with bright yellow straw – no doubt to sop the blood from victims. The floor and walls of the room are full with torture devices she remembers far too well. Some grandiose and diabolical like the wheel and others simplistic like a hand-axe likely meant to remove body parts in the crudest of ways. In the middle of the room, she sees another basin filled with coal. She assumes that this is the flame he'd directed Gabriel to light. There's a terrible kind of irony in realizing that she's about to be hurt with something she has used to protect herself with for such a long time.

"Down you go," Gabriel growls as he shoves her forward, allowing her lack of balance to bend her. “Maybe when he’s done with you,” Gabriel suggests, and then he’s moving away from her. She hears the strike of something and then the whoosh of the flame being lit, its tendrils almost immediately rising up to dance as shadows against the stone walls.

The moment he’s out of her sight, she goes to work, quickly pulling the needle from inside of the cuff and pressing it up against the lock of her cuffs. It’s an awkward and painful position, and she’s not sure she’s actually doing anything considering how little she’s ever actually paid attention to what Emma does when she picks locks, but it’s all she has. If this doesn’t work, it’s over.

Her plan, she thinks bitterly, had been a terrible one, after all.

Much like most of her plans.

So many hopes and dreams turned to smoke and ash.

“Your Honor,” she hears from behind her, Frollo’s heeled boots accompanying his honorific.

“Did she give you more of a fight?” Frollo asks, noticing how disheveled Gabriel looks.

“This bitch never stops fighting.”

“Worry not your diseased mind, Gabriel,” Frollo orders. “I’ll cleanse the fight out of her.” Before she can think to respond, her words are cut off by a rope being placed around her throat and pulled back on. "I have always been a believer of judgment through the lash, but you are beyond that. For you, there is only fire."

Eyes bulging as she gags against the rope, it takes every bit of control she has not to jerk her hands apart in some futile attempt to bring them to her throat. Perhaps Mother's training is finally coming in useful, a childhood of learning how to not react to the torture of having her air cut off. Instead, she focuses on the needle and the lock, her bloodied fingers slipping as she fumbles. 

_Come on, come on._

Luckily for her, Frollo thinks she's just spasming beneath the agony of his suffocation of her. 

"Your pride undoes you. You believe yourself stronger than you are." He chuckles darkly as he moves his face close to hers, his cheek against hers. "You're not. You're going to die here, Regina. You're going to die and nothing you do can stop that. Or save your soul. You're beyond atonement. Beyond redemption. Now, there is only judgment. Mine." In one motion, he grabs her and whips her towards the basin of fire, reaching forward to grab her hands so that he can shove them into the fire, knowing that her jerking away from the flames will cause her to press her throat even further against the rope.

Blinking frantically against the on-rushing darkness as her lungs fight for oxygen that's not coming and feeling the heat of the fire as it glides across her skin, she grips the end of the needle and rams it into the lock, almost crying when nothing happens. Almost sobbing when she realizes that this is how it's going to end.

And then she hears the almost inaudible click, and feels the cuffs loosen.

Maybe she had actually paid attention to what Emma was doing.

Or maybe, the Higher Power that there actually is had given her a chance.

Regardless, she’s done with this.

And she's done with him.

Magic returning, head still bowed forward, she pulls her wrists apart, letting the cuffs fall.

In a burst of bright purple magic, she jerks backwards, surprising both Gabriel and Frollo.

The rope falling away from her now heavily damaged throat, her lungs spasming as she tries to suck in oxygen, she doesn’t give Gabriel the chance to respond to her attack; her hand up, she slams him violently against the stone wall, the impact hard enough to knock him unconscious.

She turns to Frollo.

Who grins manically at her, taking in how badly wounded and exhausted she appears to be. “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. Even with your magic, what can you do?" Taking in the way she is gasping for air, her body continuing to shudder, he laughs. "You're weak. A pathetic former Queen without power or strength. You're going to die as nothing more than a broken, simpering wretch that even your poor long-suffering _family_ will be glad to be free of. Everyone will be better off without you." Victorious at the defeat he sees in her dull eyes, he reaches under his shirt and removes the amulet, the necklace twisted around his hand to keep it anchored to him. 

It’s then when she realizes the flaw in her plan: even with her magic, by the time she can get close enough to him to take the amulet from his hand, he will have already had the opportunity to summon his Shadow Guard to him. And once they arrive, they will overwhelm her. Which means it’s over and he’s right. Right about everything.

Frollo says as he lifts the amulet towards the air, "This is my judg -"

It all happens too quickly for senses terribly dulled by a lack of oxygen and loss of blood; one moment Frollo is triumphantly screaming into the air, the amulet raised into the sky and the next there's a whooshing sound - like air being split - and suddenly Frollo is screaming instead. Two sounds happen after that: his hand with the amulet in it falls to the straw with a wet slapping noise and the hand-axe which Regina had noticed on her way into the room embeds itself in the ground a few feet away, its blade gleaming silver and red.

"Why must bad guys always rant?" a curiously soaking wet Emma asks, standing in the door, the dim light of the dungeon glinting off her blonde hair, almost angelically.

Or maybe, Regina muses, the lack of oxygen is really screwing with her head. "Emma?" she asks, probably sounding half-drunk.

"Hi," Emma replies, turning at smiling at her.

“You’re not supposed to be here." When she speaks, her voice is hoarse and broken, barely more than a whisper. 

“Regina?” Emma asks, the light from the fire showing her the gruesome damage that's been done to Regina's face and throat. She's about to move to Regina, noticing how unsteady she seems, when she sees a whimpering Frollo pushing himself up. Striding across the room in two long steps, she grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall, holding him there with her elbow under his throat.

The room seeming to swirl around her, Regina stumbles forward, gagging as she bends to pick up the amulet with her now badly burnt hand, marveling at how damaged it looks and how little she feels even though it is. Using every bit of strength she has left, she stands and shows him the amulet. Voice cracking terribly, she charges, "You used this to control the souls of those who had found peace. That's beyond anything I ever did, even in the worst of my days."

“You would have done the same thing if you'd had the power I had now."

“No, my mother would have. All I’ve ever wanted was peace.”

“There’s no peace for you. You don’t deserve it. You never will.”

Emma shoves her elbow tighter against his throat. “Destroy it.”

“I could call them,” Regina muses. “Allow them to take their revenge on him. I may not deserve peace, but maybe I deserve the right to destroy you. Maybe, I should do that.”

“Regina,” Emma warns.

“Call them,” Frollo taunts. “Show your lover who you actually are. Show everyone _what_ you are.”

Every part of her wants to execute this monster for daring to hurt her as badly as he has. He would deserve it after all the pain he has brought. He would deserve it for all the lives he had taken and all the hope he had stolen away from the people of this land.

He would –

But then so would she, she thinks and this life-long cycle of harm, vengeance, violence and self-loathing that she's been stuck in has to end somewhere. 

If she's ever to truly be a better person, it has to start with showing the - perhaps, undeserving - mercy that others have shown her.

“No. I may be an abomination and a cancer, but I’m still not the monster that you are.” She closes her hand around the amulet, and then there’s a violent spray of white light exploding from her palm as the crystal crushes beneath the pressure.

“And that’s the signal,” Emma notes, looking over at Regina, hoping to see victory in her eyes, but seeing only pain instead. "Regina?"

“It’s not over,” Frollo babbles from their side. “I will –”

“You won’t.” One hard right to the jaw is all it takes and then the Minister is down on the ground, a paper tiger once he’s stripped of all of his soldiers, both alive and dead. Turning away from him, she moves over to Regina, her heart sinking as she's able to fully take in the damage that's been done to her lover. "Hey," she says, an arm sliding around Regina. "Hey."

“I really did have it under control.” Regina chokes out, but then she’s falling to a knee, blood dripping down her fingers, all of her strength fading from her in a single broken expulsion of air.

“You did,” Emma placates, falling to the ground with her, her arms wrapped around Regina. "But you didn't need to do this to yourself. This isn't atonement."

“No,” Regina agrees, slumping into her arms. 

Her eyes roll back.


	8. Epilogue

There’s a darkly, disquieting familiarity to this desperate journey of theirs, Emma thinks morosely, watching the scenery as the coach she’s in passes through the mountain pass leading up to the Guardian’s Spring. It’s a nice late fall afternoon, the colors around them beautiful and lush. There's sign of re-emergent life and joy in every direction.

Except here.

Because this journey is so familiar, and Emma's not as confident that this time will go as well. A year ago, Regina had gotten an emotional stay of execution - time to heal her heart through atonement for her past. It had led all of them on an extraordinary journey; the question is, was it enough? It's the same question Regina had asked her before she'd given herself to Minister Frollo, a desperate plan meant to end a terrible war. The plan had succeeded so, now what?

A groan from her side makes her turn her head, her eyes drawn to the bench where Regina’s feverish body is, her wounded frame trembling within the blankets she’s wrapped in. Her face severely cut and bruised, her ribs broken, her throat and lungs damaged, her hands burnt. They might have defeated Frollo, but..at what cost?

“Easy,” Granny murmurs, running a wet cloth past Regina's sweat-soaked brow. Granny looks up at Emma helplessly, knowing that there’s not much more she can do to help Regina. Even Emma’s underdeveloped magic, as strong as it might be in raw power, can do little more than occasionally ease the pain.

They need modern world medicine.

Or help from the Guardians.

The coach comes to a stop, its wheels grinding as it settles low into the dust of the mesa. “We’re here,” Red calls out. Emma glances out the window, verifying for herself that they've reached the usual spring in the middle of the rock, its tall trees encompassing the water at the middle of it.

The door opens a moment later, and then Red is jumping in to help her, Granny sliding out to stand next to a very anxious Henry. 

"Gently," Emma urges, quite unnecessarily. Gingerly, the two of them carry Regina from the coach. They move towards the Spring but remembering how the last time, the Guardian spoken to Regina in her mind instead of directly within the compound, Emma points to the ground. "Here." They lower her down, and then shift her into Emma's arms, Regina's head in her lap.

"I don't know what to do," Emma admits.

"Emma, just breathe," Red urges. "Speak with your heart."

It's a curious thing for Red to say, but Emma's too exhausted, frustrated and terrified to contest her words. She leans in and presses her lips to Regina's forehead, eyes closing, tears dripping down. " _Please_."

"Welcome," she hears suddenly, from somewhere above her.

Springing back, she blinks when she sees that she's in the middle of a room filled with icy blue water and a lavender mist. A look down confirms that Regina is still with her, though still unconscious. Above her, though is an auburn haired woman - stunning beautiful, her eyes the color of steel.

“I am Serena.”

“You're Regina's Guardian," Emma breathes, relief washing over her.

“And you are the Savior.”

“I'm Emma Swan.” Emma counters, almost forcefully. “She needs you help. _We_...need your help."

“You would speak for her, _Emma Swan_.” Serena crosses over to Regina and bends to inspect Regina, a curious shimmering effect accompanying her movement. Emma finds herself wondering what Serena actually is, what kind creature she is. Her thoughts are greeted with what she can only describe a a twinkling giggle. "I am many things beyond simple definition. Much as you are. Much as Regina is."

"Is that a question?" Emma queries. 

"A statement of fact. We are all, at all times, the sum of our contradictions."

"We call that complicated where I come from," Emma explains. "As for your first question, yes, I speak for her. Since she can't speak for herself."

"You want to protect her. From both those who would harm her and the harm she does to herself."

“I do. I want her to see how strong she is, but she struggles to. Her faith in herself is as damaged as her body is," Emma explains. Her hand drifts down to touch Regina's face, marveling that even though she's fairly certain they're both only here in some kind of spiritual form, she can still feel Regina's skin warm against her fingers.

"You love her, as she does you."

"Very much."

"But at one time, you were enemies."

The room suddenly shifts to show Regina and Emma in the cemetery, throwing punches at each other. Emma turns, wide-eyed and amazed as she realizes that she's literally watching their past, almost like it's on a massive 3D television screen.

"We were, but I don't need to see all of this. I remember it. It's the past."

"The past creates the foundation for the future."

"It does, and as bad as some of the things that happened were, we're both stronger for having gone through them."

"You forgive her."

Emma thinks about that, looking back down at Regina's heavily bruised face, the bright red cuts set against her usually olive skin garish and hideous. "I wouldn't have then. I couldn't have. But over the last few years, I've seen the reality of the world she came from. I believe everything is complicated. Especially when it comes to her. What she did was terrible, but it was who she was. And she's not that person, anymore. So the question isn't 'do I forgive her', because it's not about forgiving and I'm not sure it's my place to forgive her. At least not for that. But I understand who she was and I see who she is now. She's...evolved, we’ve evolved."

"Evolution is a requirement of all creatures."

"I think so."

"You told Regina that you have things to atone for as well."

"Don't _all_ creatures?" Perhaps a not quite accusation about the absence of Higher Powers to protect those in need.

"You don't shy away from challenging those with more power than you. This is what makes you a hero."

The scene changes to show Emma with a sword, facing off against the dragon form of Maleficent.

"No! No, I'm _not_ a hero. I've never wanted to be a hero. That's not who I am. I tried to become someone who helped neglected and abused people like me and like Regina before they gave up hope and continued the cycle of hurting because they'd be hurt. If anyone had been there for either of us as children, so much would have changed. So much pain could have been avoided. That's what I've tried to do."

The scene changes again to show Emma standing in front of a woman, who looks as those she's suffered several blows to the face. Across from her is a man in a suit, otherwise normal looking, someone most people would believe simply because he _looks_ too good to be evil. He's Emma that she's making a massive mistake, and that none of this is her business. It doesn't involve her and she needs to get out of the way of he and his wife. The Emma from the past simply says, "No."

"It is your nature to protect those who cannot protect themselves, because you were once that person."

"Not nature, choice. It's my choice to fight for others. Just as it was her choice to take up your mission to find atonement by fighting to bring peace to the Enchanted Forest. Just as it's been her choice to have the courage to confront the darkness in her heart, no matter how much it...harms her to do so."

"Courage has always been part of her heart as well," Serena notes. "Though she fails to see it."

"She sees herself differently than I do."

The scene behind them shifts, showing Regina looking into a mirror, the image of the Evil Queen looking back at her.

"Then it is not the courage to fight that is the concern, but rather the courage to live."

"I believe in her."

"Why?" she hears from below her. Emma looks down to see Regina looking up at her, confused and uncertain, but aware. With effort, she pushes her self up so she and Emma are eye level. "Why do you believe in me? You've never answered that question. Why I love you is obvious; anyone would be a fool not to, but why do you love me?"

"Why _you_ love _me_ might be obvious to you, but there have been a lot of... _fools_ in my life who have believed otherwise," Emma counters. She glances over at Serena, noticing how the Guardian has stepped back, and appears to just be watching them. Returning to Regina, she reaches out and gingerly touches both sides of Regina's wounded face, her thumb brushing away tears. "But in answer to _your_ question, I believe in you because I've seen how hard you fight, every single day. I believe in you because you refuse to hide from your past, no matter how much it hurts you to face it. I believe in you because you believe in me."

"Emma -"

"As for why I love you," she shrugs, awkwardly, her own insecurities rubbed raw by the honesty of her words. "I love you because you see the real me. Not the Savior, but just... _Emma_. Flawed, broken, imperfect and...real. That's the person _you_ want to be with. Just as all of those things in you make you the person _I_ want to be with."

Regina's eyes close as she tries to absorb all of the emotions she's feeling. When she opens them again, she replies softly, "Amongst a thousand other reasons, everything you just said is why I love you, too."

"Love is strength," Serena states.

"It is," Regina agrees, this a life lesson she keeps having to remind herself of, years of abuse having told her otherwise.

"But love can also be reckless," Serena cautions.

The scene shifts once more to show Emma outside the castle, crouched down with Red and Esmerelda. And then she's rising as Red reaches for her, and weaving her way through the Shadow Guard, just barely missing being seen. She gets to the edge of the water way, takes a breath and dives in. Swimming through muck until she sees an opening, she climbs out of it, rushing to find Regina.

"So that's how you got to me in time," Regina exclaims.

The lavender mist slides over them again, allowing the women to see each other's faces. Open, exposed, emotional.

Still looking at Regina, Emma says, "Love _can_ be reckless, but I won't ever apologize for protecting the ones I love. No matter how selfish that might be."

"All things in balance," Serena concurs. "Light and dark, selfless ands selfish -"

"Hope and despair," Regina adds, looking over at Serena, eyes widening like she's been awakened to something previously inexplicable. "You said before that one cannot live like this, inviting in despair to find hope but that's not true. That's the very purpose of the despair of struggle. To find hope. At least, that's my struggle. It makes me who I am. I despair every single day that what I have will be taken away from me all over again. Because maybe I don't deserve it. But...I have hope that one day I will believe otherwise. I hope that one day, I will look in that mirror and not see the worst of myself, but rather the person I want to be. And I...I believe I can." She shakes her head. "We started this believing that the mission was atonement and maybe to a degree it is that and will always be that, but it's so much more than that, too."

"It is the journey to find balance and acceptance within yourself. This is the true nature of you both. We agree that this is a...worthy mission."

"So does that mean you'll help us," Emma asks. "You'll heal her?"

There’s a maddening pause and then, “She has healed herself. So shall it be." Serena moves close to them, kneeling as before, the world shimmering around her. She reaches for Regina, her hand sliding over Regina's chest, bright light encasing her hand. "Breathe." 

Regina gasps as she feels warm magic wash over her, her body glowing white enough to blind. When the magic finally fades, Serena steps back and allows Emma to take her place next to Regina, who sees that although there are still physical remnants of Regina's injuries- cuts and bruises, mostly - she's no longer bowed in pain. But that's not what Regina wants to show her. Instead, it's her heart she guides Emma's hand to, allowing their fingers to dip beneath fabric, skin and bone. When they pull back, what they're holding in their joined palms is Regina's heart - the mix between the red and the black now roughly 50/50.

"This will not be an easy journey for either of you. But together you can succeed. You are stronger together.”

“Practically our slogan," Emma chirps.

Regina regards Emma with a fond if exasperated half-smile, then turns back to Serena. “You have done so much for me - for _us_. But I have one more favor to ask."

“You desire a way home.”

“We do.”

* * *

Emma’s jumping up in the same motion as she’s waking, crying out, “Regina?"

She turns around, looking and then…there she is.

Standing up, an arm around Henry. Looking unsteady and likely still quite sore, but alive. “Emma,” Regina breathes.

"Did that actually happen?" Emma queries, scrambling to her feet.

"Did what actually happen?" Henry asks, looking between his mothers

"I'm guessing the Guardian listened to your hearts," Red suggests, causing the rest of the party to turn and look at her. "You'll notice I don't need my hood to change form, anymore."

"No, you don't," Regina agrees.

"You never said," Emma protests.

"It was your journey," Red explains. "Together and apart. I'm just glad I got to see it."

"Wait, _what_ happened?" Henry asks again.

"We're going home," Regina tells him, then reaches out the arm that's not around him, towards Emma. "As a family."

Emma takes her hand and swings her close, enclosing Henry and Regina within her ams. This time, she’s the one to start crying. So much held back. So much to let go of.

“Shh,” Regina murmurs. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”

Behind them, Red looks over at Granny and says wryly, “They always do this.”

“Collapse the whole world around them?.

“Yep,” Red confirms, but she’s grinning.

And thinking about how she can’t wait for her world to collapse to just her and her family, too.

* * *

She finds Esmerelda bent over wooden boxes in the middle of the throne room, a stack of thin blankets in her hand as she counts them out. All around her is the debris of various different supplies being sorted through. "You look like you could some help," she says in order to announce her arrival.

Esmerelda turns, her face brightening when she sees Regina standing in the doorway. "Regina," she greets warmly. Then, remembering what had happened to her in this room, she cautions, "You don't need to. I'm sure you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Regina dips her head in acknowledgement. "To be honest, I hated this particular room long before Frollo was the tyrant in charge of it. George and I had a turbulent relationship - more so when the King was still alive and he felt free to treat me like a well-paid whore. But, none of them are here right now. Just us."

“Just us,” Esmerelda confirms. "Well, not _just_ us." She smiles warmly at a young man who is gathering blankets and then returns her attention back to Regina. “You look good considering all you went through. You frightened us."

“I frightened me. And - " she motions to her still bruised face. "I've looked better."

"Was Emma not able to heal these wounds?"

"I asked her not to. It's taken me awhile to understand it, but I think some wounds should heal with time, not magic."

"Most of yours from this land have healed that way."

"I know," Regina acknowledges.

“So, then, have you found your peace? Your atonement?"

“I think those are probably life-long... _missions_ for me,” Regina says. 

The door opens and Jamie enters. “Apologies for interrupting, but we are getting more requests for support and supplies from the Outlands. People are starting to emerge from their safehouses, and they need assistance urgently."

Both women start speaking at once. Regina chuckles, then motions to Esmerelda.

“Have them send representatives,” Esmerelda says. “We will do all we can to help.”

"Understood." Jamie starts for the door, then stops. He says simply, “You kept your word.” It's not forgiveness but she thinks it’s respect for her journey, and in many ways, that's more than she could have ever hoped for.

Once he's gone, Esmerelda looks over at Regina, notices that she seems vaguely nervous about something and asks, "Did you come to say goodbye, Regina?"

"I did. It's time." She steps towards the window and looks out on the land. "She used to be so beautiful."

"She still is," Esmerelda contests. "Wounded, but still beautiful. Ready to flourish again."

Regina turns back to face Esmerelda. "It will take a tremendous leader to guide these people forward into...something better. That's clearly not me."

“You might be surprised," Esmerelda contests. "Many here are willing to follow you. You are the Queen. _Not_ , the Evil Queen."

Regina allows herself a moment of absorbing the distinction of Esmerelda's words before pressing forward with, "That may be so, but it's not what I want, anymore. Now...now, I just want to be the Mayor of Storybrooke, Maine. That's where I'm meant to be now. That's my home. And this is where you're meant to be. _Your_ home."

"I don't wish to be a Queen."

"Then don't be. Bring people together. Create a council and let everyone have a voice. It's difficult, but it can be successful if you can get everyone to work together. As I've been finding out back in Storybrooke. But even then, they will still need someone to lead them and show them the way. They need _you_ , Es."

Esmerelda chuckles. "Who would have ever believed that an abandoned and unwanted Romani child would grow into..." she shrugs.

"An inspirational woman who led her people to freedom," Regina finishes for her. 

"I will do my best to live up to the faith you have in me."

"Not just me," Regina insists, then looks back out the window once more, taking in what once was her land. "You're right; she is still beautiful."

“She is," Esmerelda agrees, coming up beside her and joining her in looking out. "Thanks to you. You give me credit, but it was your courage that brought us here."

“I don’t think I deserve thanks - or credit - for fixing what I broke. What I did destabilized the balance of the Enchanted Forest and created a power vacuum that allowed my sister and then Frollo to take power. My actions had horrific repercussions even beyond my already terrible expectations."

“Your heart has been healed, yes?” Regina nods. “Then let it _be_ healed. Stop carrying around the weight of your guilt. We can atone by making our worlds better and stronger and protecting those who look to us, but we can’t alter what we’ve done. Guilt won’t make atonement easier, it’ll just make it harder to see true beauty."

"I’ve lived with this guilt a very long time," Regina explains. "I’m not sure what it would feel like not to. It’s… become almost like a companion to me.”

“You have better companions now,” Esmerelda observes. “Much lovelier ones.”

“I do, indeed," Regina concurs. She glances to her side, taking in the previously fire-filed basin. “What of Frollo?”

“Unclear. There are those who want him and Gabriel and all of the other mercenaries executed and those who do not want to start a new kingdom with death. I suppose that that will be one of the first tasks of the new council once it's formed. For now, though, they're all locked away. The dungeon he harmed you in is now his prison."

“Fitting. But be careful of him.”

“I know what he’s capable of,” Esmerelda assures her. “He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“It’s funny; he believed in a higher being who was all mighty and powerful.”

“But also cruel and capricious. That is not my God.”

“I’m not sure I have – or want one. As a child, I prayed to the gods all the time,” Regina tells her. “They never heard me, so I gave up on the idea or existence of them. And the other creatures of magic – the ones I knew existed - chose not to help because of my mother.”

“Until the Guardians.”

“Until them. Until her. She heard me and she heard Emma. It’s why I’m here.”

“I'm glad. Whether you choose to believe it or not, this world, as well as yours, is better today because of you. You deserve happiness, my friend."

"Believing that...will take time. But I'm working on it." 

"I know. When will you be leaving us?"

"In the morning. No point in delaying it. You have work to do and...so do we."

“As much as I wish you weren't going, I understand. But tonight, we celebrate. Our friendships and our victory."

“Tonight,” Regina agrees, then gestures at the wooden boxes. “But for now, can I help you with all of this?"

“Only if you can take direction. After all, you're no longer the Queen."

Regina tilts her head, realizing how much she doesn't actually like the sound of that. "Okay, I might always be a _little_ bit of the Queen."

They share a laugh and then Esmerelda is handing her a stack of blankets to count.

A tiny step in the massive rebuilding of a world.

* * *

The music is loud and echoing through the kingdom, drowned out by the canons sounding.

The battle won, the war over.

At least this one.

As Regina sits on a bench and watches the joyful pandemonium, a full glass of red wine in front of her, she finds herself thinking about the conversation with the Guardian. Thinking about just how far the last year has brought her that she's finally able to accept Serena's words that that the struggle within herself is not for good and evil as it might once have been, but rather now for the acceptance of herself. Difficult, painful, sometimes impossible, the old urge to fall into her self-loathing and despair intoxicating and corrosive,

But some times, uplifting, empowering and revelatory, beacons of hope illuminating her future in a way she'd never have believed possible before all of this.

Speaking of beacons...

“Hey,” she hears from behind her, and then there are warm arms around her, and soft lips pressed up against her neck. “I have been looking _everywhere_ for you. People are asking about you."

"Are they now? Well, I've been here. Where have _you_ been?"

"Out there," she points towards the street. "Dancing with the friends who are looking for you. Not here, brooding in the corner, away from those same friends. And me," Emma shoots back, a hint of alcohol on her breath.

“I’m thinking, not brooding,” Regina corrects."And you can let those friends know that I'll be over...in a bit."

"Uh uh. Not good enough." Emma leans in and kisses Regina’s neck, delighting in the low rumble she hears. “No more thinking tonight. We have a lifetime for that.”

"Mm. I like the sound of that."

"Me, too." Emma stands up straight and holds out two mugs. “But enough brooding; I have ale."

“Seems you to me you’ve been _having_ ale,” Regina replies teasingly.

“Yep,” Emma agrees. “And you’re going to join me in getting absolutely plastered drunk.” She leans in and start nuzzling Regina’s neck again, well aware that returning here is a severe cheat kind of move. Oh well.

Regina’s head lolls back, giving Emma more access. “Where’s our son?”

Without taking her mouth away from Regina’s neck, Emma points outwards. “Over there.”

Regina looks and sees several people who are decidedly not Henry. Swiveling her head to the side, she spots Henry in the opposite direction, standing with a group of teenagers his age. More noticeably, though, he’s standing across from a pretty girl, shyly shuffling his feet.

“I think you mean over _there_ ,” Regina teases, shifting Emma’s arm that way.

“Right,” Emma agrees, looking over. “Charming the ladies. Just like his momma.”

“No one needs anymore Charming,” Regina grumbles.

“You weren’t complaining a minute ago."

“Yes, well, I have a sensitive neck and you have always had a good mouth, when properly used."

Emma just grins at her in response, as always seeing right through her pretense. Even half drunk.

“Regina,” she urges. “Look around us.” She takes Regina’s hand and swings her into the street with her before spinning her around so that they’re facing towards the towers of the castle Frollo had been ruling from, her chin settled on Regina's shoulder so that they can take in everything together. Everywhere around, in every direction, are the sounds of celebration and joy. “These people are happy. They're free to start living the lives they've always wanted to. We helped to make that happen. Shouldn't we get that chance, too? Isn't that everything we've been fighting for?" She lifts her hand up and traces a finger lightly over one of the marks on Regina's face. Somehow, only she could manage to be bruised and cut up and still look staggeringly beautiful. "Didn't you almost die for the chance to live?"

“For someone as incredibly drunk as you are, you manage to still be pretty good at hope speeches; your mother's genetics are insidious," Regina cracks, taking Emma's hand from her face and bringing it to her lips, gently kissing the heel of Emma's palm before bringing their hands back to settle in the middle of her own belly, their fingers interwoven.

"You love it," Emma counters, head down to kiss Regina's shoulder.

"Maybe," Regina allows. "You know, they have a long road ahead of them here."

“As do we. Both of our roads can start tomorrow. When we’re sober. But tonight, drink with me and dance with me. Let's find our friends and let's celebrate and let's just...be alive in this moment. Together. We’ve earned this.”

Regina cranes her head up, presses her lips to Emma’s and breathes out, “Yes.”

* * *

“How was your night, Kid?” Emma asks, nudging Henry in the side as they walk towards the clearing, her duffle slung over her shoulder.

“How was _your_ night?” he counters, nudging her back.

“Well I’m an adult so hopefully a lot different than yours.”

He wrinkles his nose at that. “Ew. Don’t want to hear that. Heard enough of it, already."

"Really?"

“Really. You two aren’t nearly as quiet as you think.”

“Quiet about what?” Regina asks as she approaches, leading Black Winter with her. After much discussion, it had been decided that the other three horses would remain, but this one, whom Regina had so bonded with over the last year, would return back to Storybrooke with them.

“Nothing," both Henry and Emma say together, and then Henry's trotting up ahead to join Granny and Red.

“You two are up to something, aren't you?"

Emma shrugs. "Nah. How’s your head feeling? You know, for someone who started drinking after everyone else, you sure caught up in a hurry.”

“Do I really need to remind you that I’m not the one who decided to –”

Emma waves her hand, looking vaguely sickly at just the memory of how much alcohol she'd consumed the night before - and the immediate aftermath of it. “Yeah, no, you don't have to. You know, one of the things I’ll miss about being here are the hangover cures. They’re…effective.”

“Cow balls will do that,” Regina notes and then walks away, off to join Henry up ahead.

Leaving Emma calling after her. “Wait, seriously?”

Regina tilts her head back, coquettishly informing her **,** “We’re here, Miss Swan; don’t dally.”

And true enough, they’re in the original clearing where they’d come through almost a year ago, the grass far taller than it’d been back then. Henry had been the one to choose this to be the place for them to go back through, suggesting that the symbolism of full circle mattered.

Suggesting that the end of a specific journey is best marked by recognizing the beginning of it.

Which is what he had finally decided, after a year of deliberation, to name the rebellion.

“The Circle,” he’d told everyone the night before. “In honor of returning the Enchanted Forest to the people, where it belongs.” He’d then presented Esmerelda with a loosely bound book, its thin parchment papers etched with black ink. “The story of the Circle from the beginning.”

A hundred different conversations about the past, a hundred more observations about the present. Every story a building block of the future they had fought for and won the chance to now have.

Not surprisingly, Esmerelda had broken down in tears, clutching the book to her.

Today, that circle of past, present and future has brought them back to where his family had come through a year before, on an urgent quest to find hope and salvation. And while they’d certainly found those things, they’d also found friendship, purpose, atonement and love.

“I hate goodbyes,” Red says, and then steps forward and hugs Emma. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Gonna miss you. Anytime you want to come back.”

“And flip pancakes?”

“You’ve never flipped a pancake in your life,” Granny snorts.

Red ignores her. “Pass. This is where I’m meant to be.” She gestures towards Esmerelda, who is over talking with Regina. “With her. Just as you’re meant to be with our hot-headed Queen.”

“I know, but I’m still gonna miss you. I mean, who else is gonna take my side when Regina’s being an unreasonable pain in the ass?”

“I’m sure your mom will be happy to help with that,” Red cracks. “Give her a hug from me.”

“I will.”

“And hey, Em, you’re welcome to come back here any time you’d like, too.”

“I like indoor plumbing,” Emma chuckles, before suddenly pulling up to a stop. She bends down and plucks a blade of grass, turning it over in her fingers before dropping it into a little glass bottle.

“Do I want to know?”

“Completing another circle. Finishing off a deal.”

“Fair enough.” Red loops her arm with Emma’s and walks them towards the rest of the group.

They arrive just in time to hear Regina say to Esmerelda, “Your people are lucky to have you.”

“And yours are lucky to have you.”

The two women share a hug, and then Regina looks over at Red.

“Come on, Regina. Admit it, you’ve grown to like me,” Red teases.

“Have you grown to like me?”

“I’m letting you bed one of my best friends, aren’t I?”

“Letting me?”

“All right, all right, hug it out and get going,” Granny barks.

Both Regina and Red roll their eyes and then do a quick hug. An allowance that over the past year, the grudging respect Red had once had for the Queen as a force of nature has morphed into genuine respect for Regina as a woman trying to make up for the past all while attempting to become a better person worthy of love. It’s a relatable journey, a relatable mission in life.

When they separate, Granny takes her turn. “I’m proud of you,” she tells Regina.

“Eugenia,” Regina warns, because she’s so far managed to not shed any tears during this goodbye. And she has always hated goodbyes. Hated the end of good things.

Fearful of the unknown of what comes next.

“I get to say that,” Granny insists. “And I’m saying it. I’m proud of you. Now go and be happy.”

Overcome with emotion, and for once unable to find words, Regina steps back, then looks over at Emma and Henry. She nods her head jerkily, almost afraid she’ll start crying if she speaks.

She thinks that maybe it’s time to let go of her fear of her unknown.

Maybe it’s time to embrace her future, hardships, joys and all.

“What do you imagine Storybrooke has been up to since we’ve been gone?” Henry asks.

“It’s Storybrooke,” Red deadpans. “Something insane.”

“Probably,” Regina agrees with an already exasperated shake of her head.

“So? You ready to take on our next adventure?” Emma asks, coming to her side.

“Finally,” Regina answers, then to Henry, "Go ahead."

With a strong throw that would make his grandfather proud, he pitches the bean forward, a burst of light forming a perfect circle. He reaches for both of his mothers’ hands and steps forward.

And as always, guides them home.

* * *

It’s the middle of the morning (Storybrooke is several hours behind the Enchanted Forest, Emma has to remind herself and then finds herself wondering what the Enchanted Forest’s time zone is called) when the three of them (and Black Winter) step through the portal, emerging onto Main Street.

“We made it,” Henry announces.

“Yeah...we did,” Emma agrees.

“You seem disappointed,” Regina suggests, noting Emma’s frown.

"I guess I'd just been hoping for a welcome party. Some kind of hail to the conquering heroes parade. Or at least a balloon.”

“Will police escort do?” Regina queries, pointing towards a sheriff’s car which is turning down the street, its lights on them as it approaches. “Because I do believe that’s your father.”

The beaming smile that crosses Emma’s face is breathtaking. As soon as the car stops, she’s moving towards it at the same time David is stumbling from it. “Dad!"

"Emma!" He crushes her in his arms, squeezing her tight. “We missed you.”

“We missed you, too,” Emma tells him, pulling back to motion to Regina and Henry.

“I did not miss you,” Regina contests. Off Emma’s lifted eyebrow, she grudgingly adds, “Fine; a little bit.”

David laughs. “Welcome home. I want to know… _everything_.”

“We have a story for you,” Emma confirms, then looks over at Henry, their chronicler.

The keeper of a hundred tales.

He says, “Grandpa, all of this is going to seem crazy and impossible, but it’s all true.”

David looks over, sees the way Regina and Emma are standing next to each other, their hands connected, seemingly unaware that they are. He replies, “I believe it.”

* * *

After three hours of conversation (not all of it about their adventures in Fairytale Land; Snow and David update them on all of Rumple’s antics over the last year as well as the addition of several new citizens brought over from the Realm of Forgotten Stories), Snow finally relents to letting them leave. But only after Regina promises to take back her leadership of the town (once she's well-rested, of course) and they both consent to letting her throw them a “Welcome Back” party the next evening.

They’re leaving right as the sun is coming up, planning to return to Regina’s house to sleep away the morning, afternoon and night. Spend some time doing nothing besides enjoying the peace and quiet that they've earned.

As they step outside, still dressed in their clothes from the other world, Regina says to Henry, “Walk ahead with me. I need to stretch my legs. Too much sitting.”. He seems confused, but then just goes along with it, walking down the street with her, leaving Emma alone with her parents.

“Subtle,” David teases.

“Said no one about Regina ever,” Emma cracks, smiling after her son and lover.

“Emma,” Snow notes, an edge of caution in her voice, wary for once, of stepping into territory she might not be welcome in. “You told us about the Guardian and you told us about fighting with the resistance and defeating Frollo, but you didn’t tell us about…you and Regina.”

And that’s true – they’d scoped around the edges of their story, speaking of the many ways they’d been there for each other, but not really about the many ways they’d fallen for each other. Even as they'd shared the same space effortlessly, even organically. 

“It’s…complicated." She almost laughs at that, thinking of how she's used that word to describe Regina and herself (and their relationship) to the Guardian. And a very long story.” She tilts her head. “Are you guys going to be okay with…me and her?” She steadies herself. “Together?”

“Are you happy?” David asks.

“I am. I really am.”

“Then we are, too. For both of you,” Snow assures her.

“This isn’t weird?”

David shrugs. “Of course it’s weird, but what in our lives isn’t?”

“He’s right,” Snow concurs. “Besides, this isn’t the shock you think it is.”

“So I’ve realized,” Emma says wryly. Then points to the street, “They’re probably wondering where I am; I should get going. We’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“With party streamers,” Snow vows, then leans in and kisses Emma on the forehead, “Goodnight, baby girl.”

* * *

“Something on your mind?” Regina asks, stepping out of the shower, toweling off her wet - desperately in need of a cut - hair. There’s another towel wrapped around her frame, obnoxiously covering up entirely too much. “You’ve seemed distracted since we got ho - here.”

“You were about to say home.”

“I was. Is that… is that a problem?”

“Nope,” Emma chirps, then reaches out and pulls Regina towards her, her hand settling on Regina’s towel-covered backside and lightly squeezing. “You know, this is my first time in your bedroom. I think I could get used to this."

“Me too. Emma, What were you thinking about when I came in." She levels Emma with her best "no bullshit" gaze, choosing to momentarily forget that she's atop Emma wearing only a towel. A significantly difficult thing to do considering how Emma keeps lightly squeezing her backside.

“It's nothing." Caught in the unwavering intensity Regina's gaze, she sighs. "Okay, fine. Why did you leave me with my parents?”

“I thought you might want to have some time with them,” Regina answers, like it’s obvious.

“Maybe, but you also wanted me to be the one to tell them about us, didn't you? Were you afraid they’d reject you?”

“Can you blame me? Could you have blamed them if they had?”

“But they didn’t,” Emma soothes, then reaches up and tucks hair behind Regina’s ear. “Because they love you and want you to be happy. Also, they already knew.” She laughs. “Regina, everyone already knows.”

“You sure you mom didn’t squeal to everyone?” Regina queries, but she’s clearly teasing.

“Who cares if she did?” Emma counters, then pulls Regina closer, causing them to tumble onto the bed together. "Let everyone know."

“Everyone?"

 _"Everyone_."

“Every day, every moment,” Regina whispers, thinking of how those words have become about so many different parts of her. Hope, despair, love. 

All things in balance. Perhaps, eventually. 

“What's that?" Emma queries.

“Nothing. Emma, I'm still wearing a towel. I presume I don't need to inform you of just how much this displeases me?"

"Not as much as it displeases me," Emma cheeks.

"What a shame, then, that I apparently have to order you to remove it. There _will_ be consequences."

"I can't wait," Emma grins, and then promptly strips away the towel, rolling Regina beneath her as she does. "We have that private space now; feel free to scream."

"So arrogant and cocky," Regina mock scolds, and then she's bringing Emma's face down against her neck. "I did mention there were a thousand reasons I loved you, yes?"

Emma's head pokes up. "You're going to do this now?"

Looking very much like the cat who just caught the canary, Regina says, "I can talk while you... _please_. But you'd best take your time; it's quite a long list."

"Is that so?"

"Mm. Reason number 1: you're insufferably disobedient and it turns me on."

"I'll keep that in mind," Emma deadpans, and then dips her head down, lips against skin.

Regina's eyes roll back as she mumbles out, "Reason Number 2."

She doesn't get to finish the sentence before she starts screaming.

The mission continues.

**-Fin**


End file.
